


Sons and Daughters of the Soho Riots

by aRavenAndaDesk



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: College Life, Developing Relationship, Domesticity, F/M, Recovery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-04-20 04:08:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 57,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4772933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aRavenAndaDesk/pseuds/aRavenAndaDesk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The nightmare is over and they came back from it as different people with a different outlook in life. What's really important is suddenly so clear. They have each other, they have their families, and that's all that matters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Leave them be, Shannon

_“The really important kind of freedom involves attention, and awareness, and discipline, and effort, and being able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them, over and over, in myriad petty little unsexy ways, every day.”_

David Foster Wallace  -‘ _This Is Water’_

* * *

 

Jessica’s parents were the first to get to the hospital. It was only natural, since they lived downtown and her father was used to waking up at odd hours due to his job as an Air Traffic Controller. The group of teenagers were huddled up in a corner in the ER, covered in blankets and not speaking. They heard Mr. and Mrs. Lowell across the corridor before they saw them.

“My daughter! Where’s my daughter?!”

Jessica’s father was not a patient man. He could have been a drill sergeant, if only God had not given him flat feet.

“Mom! Dad!”

Jessica extricated herself from Mike’s arms and ran to her parents. Chris looked at the scene from his seat on one of the stretcher beds, the lower part of his injured leg on a splint and his not-quite-girlfriend-but-definitely-getting-there curled up against his side. He thought that Jessica looked just like an innocent child running to her mother after the first day of school, arms outstretched and braids dangling down her back and everything. Chris couldn’t blame her. He could tell from the faces of his friends that they had all regressed to the mental state of scared children, desperate for comfort and security. Well, maybe not Emily, but who knew what was going on in that girl’s mind.

Many thoughts had crossed Chris’ mind since the rangers had taken them to the hospital. But the most nagging thought in his head the whole time was how much he wanted to hug his little brother again. Jesus, he could have died that night. He could have died while his family was sleeping many miles away, completely oblivious to the horrors their eldest son was enduring. Little Aaron would have woken up the following morning, with the sole intention of eating his cereal in front of the Saturday morning cartoons, only to find his parents waiting for him in the kitchen, teary-eyed, telling him to sit down because something had happened last night to his brother and they didn’t know how to break the news to a ten year old.

The Lowells clutched their daughter in a tight embrace. Jessica’s mother started sobbing unashamedly, while her husband checked Jessica up and down as he stumbled for words.

“Jesus, we’re so glad you’re okay, we got a call from the Ranger’s office and they wouldn’t tell us anything, we thought the worse for a moment… Are you okay? Jesus Christ, what happened to you? What…? Did anyone…? What are you wearing?”

Mike decided that was his cue to step up. He was wearing some scrubs they had given him upon arrival and he had no shoes on. His and Sam’s clothes had been completely soaked up in freezing cave water and then exposed to the cold air of a snowstorm; so by the time they got to the hospital, they were both on the verge of hypothermia. Most of the group was, actually. Mike had three blankets wrapped around himself like a giant onion and yet his teeth were still chattering.

“Mr. Lowell, um, sir…”

The man looked at Mike, like he had just realized there was a whole group of people in the room. His eyes jumped all over the faces of the teenagers in front of him and then they came to rest on Mike. He was probably jumping to some unfortunate conclusions, because his face contorted in something akin to controlled anger when he looked at his daughter’s boyfriend. He pointed at Mike with an accusing finger.

“You have _so much_ explaining to do, young man.”

Emily huffed loud enough for everyone to hear. Matt gave her a look of incredulity but she wasn’t looking at him, she was looking at her feet.

Jess intervened before her father could make a scene. “It’s okay dad, Mike saved me tonight. He was a hero.”

Mike looked uncomfortable hearing that. He opened his mouth to say something, something like ‘technically I didn’t save Jess, it was Matt who helped her out of the mines’ but Matt gave him a pointed look of ‘It’s okay man, don’t bother’, so in the end he didn’t say anything. Mr. Lowell gave stared at his daughter in confusion for a moment, but then he nodded at Mike in silent gratitude. Jessica’s mother was more effusive. She approached Mike and hugged him before he could react, never ceasing to sob as she did so. He patted the woman’s back awkwardly as he scanned the faces of his friends, bewildered.

Sam and Ashley smiled softly at him. Chris peeked a hand out of his blanket to give him a little thumbs-up. Even Matt was displaying an almost-but-not-quite smile on his face.

A doctor came in to talk to Jessica’s parents while a nurse wheeled in a cart full of steaming paper cups. She gave one to each one of them with a caring smile and left. Chris smelled the hot liquid before taking a sip. It was hot chocolate. Ashley cuddled up closer to him, fitting her head in the crook between his neck and shoulder. She didn’t touch her drink, she just stared at the cup in her hands with a faraway look.

“You should try it, it’s good.” Chris whispered, nudging her lightly under their shared blanket. They were all speaking in low voices now, as if they were afraid of breaking some unspoken agreement.

“I’m not in the mood.” She mumbled back. “My stomach feels like it’s full of rocks.”

“Come on, just a little. It’s mostly so you can get warm. They always make you drink hot liquids to treat hypothermia. Better this than their awful chicken soup.” He quipped.

Sighing, she relented, drinking her hot chocolate in small sips. He stroked her back in circular motions with his left hand as he held his cup with the other. He really, really wanted to do something like kiss her forehead or caress her cheek but they weren’t alone and he still felt weird about public displays of affection. Holding hands under the blanket would have to do. Besides, she wasn’t complaining.

“Guys” Sam broke the silence, sounding serious. “We need to think about what we’re going to tell our parents. It’s obvious that the police didn’t believe us, and to be frank I didn’t expect them to, but we can’t go to our families with a story about what happened tonight. It’s not going to help anyone.”

Matt sighed. “Well, Jess and I can say that we spent most of the night trying to make our way out of the mines. It’s mostly the truth, anyways.”

“How are we going to explain all the injuries though?” Mike inquired. “Are we going to blame it all on that weird guy with the flamethrower?”

“No! We’re not blaming him for this!” Chris protested. Everyone turned to look at him. “Look… we can just say that we’re too traumatized to remember clearly what happened. I mean, I think I’m still in shock, so it’s not completely a lie.”

The group fell silent, thinking about their options. They were not up to have that kind of discussion yet.

“I’m not going to end up in a mental asylum because of this.” Emily said quietly. She noticed the alarmed looks she received in response and snapped. “What? You all know that if we keep bringing up the wendigo, they’re going to send us to a shrink sooner or later. I suggest you keep your mouths shut if you want to keep living a normal life.”

They couldn’t exactly argue with her reasoning.

They continued to drink their chocolate in silence. It was already mid morning and they were exhausted, but at the same time they were too wired up to be able to sleep.

“My mom is out of town for the weekend” Ashley whispered to Chris a while later. “She was going to come back home tomorrow morning before I did. I talked to her on the phone an hour ago; she said she can’t get back any sooner than tonight.”

Chris frowned. “You’re just going to go back to your empty house?”

She shrugged. “I just want to take a hot shower and sleep the whole day away in my bed.”

“I don’t think you should be alone right now.”

“I’ll be fine. It’s just for a few hours.” She sounded like she was having a hard time convincing herself of that.

“Come to my house” he suggested before he could stop himself. “We have a guest room. I can ask my mom to make us casserole for lunch. Or dinner, whatever you prefer.”

“Look, Chris, it’s really not necessary…”

“Please?”

Maybe it was how pleading his voice sounded, maybe it was the puppy eyes he gave her, but she gave in. “Fine” she yawned, rubbing her forehead against his shoulder. “But, uhhh… my clothes are covered in blood and I don’t have a spare change.”

“It’s okay, I’ll ask my parents to drive you to your house real quick so you can grab what you need.”

“Well, if they don’t mind doing that…”

“You two are so cute” Jessica said, startling them. Chris hadn’t even seen her coming back again after her parents had taken her aside. “I wish I had my phone here to take a photo.” A glimpse of her bubbly personality was back, so that was a good sign.

“Um, guys, could at least pretend to give us some privacy here?” He asked. “Thank you.”

His friends chuckled. The atmosphere in the room changed, and for a moment, Chris started to believe that maybe, things would turn out to be okay after all.

“I think I’m not going to leave my room for a week.” Sam declared.

Chris put his empty cup down on the edge of the bed and brushed Ashley’s bangs out of her eyes. He thought _screw it_ and smacked a sounding kiss against her temple. She gave him a shy smile and closed her eyes.

 

* * *

 

“Here we are. Is this the right address, Ashley?”

Chris saw Ashley starting to nod, but then she seemed to realize that Mr. Phillips couldn’t see her from the driver’s seat, so she answered with a croaky “Yes”. Her voice sounded scratchy. She had taken off her hoodie and thrown it in a trash can back at the hospital. It was her piece of clothing that was the most covered in blood splatters, and as she had told Chris, she didn’t need to startle every person she encountered on her way home with her display of gore. Considering how Chris’ mother had reacted when she’d first seen them, she had made the right choice.

He could add ‘making his mother cry’ to the list of things to feel guilty about that day.

Chris was sitting with her in the backseat and he had not let go of her hand the whole time. Neither of them had said a word during the trip, and Chris’ parents had not urged them to talk. His mother had looked like she wanted to start asking questions at one point, but his dad had stopped her with a hand wave and a hushed “Leave them be, Shannon.”

Chris’ dad parked the car in front of Ashley’s house. He looked over his shoulder at them. “Do you need any help back there?”

“No, thank you. It’ll take just a minute.” She answered, unfastening her seat belt.

“I’ll go with you” Chris said, grabbing the crutch from the floor mat and opening his door before she could protest.

She took a look at his bandaged foot and frowned. “I don’t think you should be putting weight on that.”

“I’m fine. They said it’s just a sprained ankle.”

There was no point in arguing and she knew it. She beckoned him with her hand. “Okay. Well, come on in.”

Chris knew his presence was not needed in the house, but he just could not stand the idea of letting her go out of his sight for long. It was a nagging thought that he didn’t want to admit to himself.

It took her three tries to unlock the door because the lock kept jamming when she tried to twist the key in it. “My mom refuses to pay for a locksmith unless it gets broken beyond repair.” She explained with an apologetic look.

“It’s okay. Take your time.” He squeezed her shoulder to reiterate his point.

Walking through the door, Chris realized that he had never been to her house even though they had been friends for a long time. Maybe she was too embarrassed to bring any friends over, although he could not think of any reasons why. Ashley had always been evasive when talking about her family. He knew that her dad had not been around for a long time and that she lived with her mom instead of in a dorm to save money.

He followed her to a small kitchen with tiled countertops and ugly floral drapes. She stood there awkwardly, rubbing her hands.

“Do you… want a drink or something?”

“No, thanks. Let’s just get this done so we can leave.” She nodded and moved on to the hallway, brushing past him. “Do you want me to help you with your stuff?” It would be a pain in the ass to walk up the stairs with a crutch, but he’d do it.

“No, it’s fine. I just need to get a few clothes and some toiletries.”

She disappeared upstairs and he took a seat on one of the kitchen chairs as he waited for her. A part of him badly wanted to see what her room looked like, but he guessed it would have to wait for another time. It was so quiet in the kitchen he could hear the low buzzing of the fridge. It was so numbing, the silence, the peacefulness. It felt surreal.

He noticed a picture on the wall and he stood to take a closer look at it. It was a photo of a younger version of Ashley, sitting on her mother’s lap as she blew out the candles on a birthday cake. Chris counted the candles on the cake. Eight. He couldn’t see any other people in the background, it was just Ash and her mother. He felt a small pang of sadness inside him. Chris had never been the most popular kid growing up, but even he had always managed to string along a friend or two for his birthday parties. He wondered who had been holding the camera in that photo.

“I’m ready, let’s go.”

He turned around, startled. Ashley could be quiet like a mouse sometimes. She had put on a wool coat and she was carrying a small duffel bag in her hand. He nodded and followed her.

They walked outside together, to where his parents were waiting in the car.

 

* * *

 

The Phillips family lived in a two story house in a nice suburban area. There was a skateboard lying around in the porch that Ashley guessed belonged to Chris’ brother. The snow had been shoveled off the driveway recently.

“Need any help with that bag, sweetie?” Mrs. Phillips asked her.

“No, it’s fine. It’s not heavy.”

Mr. Phillips almost tripped on the skateboard as he walked to the door. He cussed. “Hell’s bells! I’ve told your brother a million times to be more careful with his things.” Ashley was half expecting him to kick the toy aside angrily, but the man picked it up carefully instead. He unlocked the door and called out his younger son as a way of greeting. “Aaron! We’re back! We have a guest, don’t be a rude kid and come down to say hi! And for jeeper’s sake, put your skateboard in your closet where it belongs before your mother breaks her neck!” He turned around to give Ashley a smile that was the splitting image of hospitality. “You kids want some eggnog?”

“Uh… yeah, sure.”

Well, that answered the question of where Chris got his goofiness from.

Mr. Phillips went to the kitchen to get their beverages while his wife went upstairs. Ashley helped Chris out of his parka and hung both of their coats in the rack by the door.

“You still have eggnog in the fridge in February?” She whispered to Chris as soon as his parents were out of earshot.

He shrugged. “My dad stocks up on it while they sell it so it can last us for weeks after Christmas season is over.”

“Figures.” They exchanged a look and giggled.

Suddenly a young boy appeared at the top of the stairs, wide-eyed and disheveled. “Chris?”

It was like something inside Chris that had been holding on to keep him together finally snapped, leaving the walls to collapse in a million pieces. His face wrinkled up in sorrow and he reached out a hand to his brother. “Yeah, it’s me, buddy.” He said, barely containing a sob. “Come down here, will you?”

Aaron regarded Ashley with curiosity for a second, before running down to Chris to grip him in a tight hug. Chris put his arms around the child’s small body and buried his face in his shaggy locks of sandy blonde hair. Ashley knew without a doubt that he was crying.

When they finally separated, Aaron gave his older brother a look of worry and confusion. “Hey, what’s wrong? What happened?”

“Nothing.” Chris said, taking off his glasses to rub his eyes. “I’m just… I’m just really tired. We had a bad night, but everything’s okay now. So don’t worry, kiddo.” He reassured his brother, ruffling his hair. “Oh, by the way, this is Ashley.” He waved a hand at her to introduce her.

“Hello, Aaron.” She said with a smile.

“Hi.” The boy looked at her timidly for moment, and eventually he added “It’s the first time Chris has brought a girl home, you know. It was about time, geez.”

Chris looked at his brother like he wanted to kick him. Ashley snickered.

They went to the kitchen where Mr. Phillips had three glasses of eggnog waiting for them on the table. “There you go. It’s a crime they don’t sell this stuff all year round, seriously. By the time tax day comes rolling by, I’m getting withdrawals already.”

Chris snorted into his glass and in the end she had to pat him on the back until he stopped coughing up eggnog through his airways.

 

Mrs. Phillips gave her a quick tour of the house as they walked through the upstairs corridor. “And here’s the bathroom. The spare towels are in the cabinet on the left. Do you need to borrow one of my pyjamas, sweetie? They’ll probably be a bit big on you, but the more comfort the better, right?”

Ashley wondered whether Chris’ mom called everybody ‘sweetie’ or if she had just taken a liking to her in the short time they’d known each other. If it was the latter, she could not fathom why.

“It’s fine, I brought my own.” She cracked the door open and peeked inside. “Thank you for everything, Mrs. Phillips.”

The woman giggled, fiddling with the brooch on her lapel. “Call me Shannon, sweetie. You’re very polite, which I appreciate, but there’s no need to be so shy around us. We don’t bite. Well, Vincent sometimes screams at the TV when some story on the news upsets him, but I’ve heard that’s actually very common. So…” the woman sighed and smoothed down her sweater with her pale hands. Her cheerful demeanor seemed to be cracking, and now the concern, fear and uncertainty were showing in her eyes. “I’d better go downstairs to make sure that Aaron doesn’t spend the whole day playing video games…” She murmured, turning around and leaving.

Ashley locked the bathroom door and took a look at herself in the mirror. They had cleaned up the blood on her face at the hospital and given her some ice for the black eye. She had refused any painkillers. Now the bruise was a hideous smudge of purple and green in all its glory. She poked at it tentatively and hissed. Black eye aside, she looked alright. On the outside at least. She undressed and stepped into the shower.

She could feel herself trembling under the spray of hot water, but she thought it was a weird effect of the hypothermia. Maybe her body was readjusting to the temperature change. Eventually she realized that she was crying.

She turned the water off and slid down to the bottom of the tub. She hugged her knees and sobbed inconsolably as the tremors took hold of her body. She could not remember ever feeling this wretched and desolate before in her life.

“Ash! Ash! Are you okay in there?” Of course Chris had heard her weeping through the door. She had been in that house for less than an hour and she was already making a fool of herself.

She brushed the tears off her face and tried to take a hold of her breathing. “Yeah… yeah, I’m fine. I just- I just need a moment, okay?”

“Okay… but let me know if you need anything. I’m just down the hallway.”

She grabbed one of the towels in cabinet and dried herself off quickly. She put on a pair of plaid pyjama bottoms, an old t-shirt and a v-neck sweater. Grabbing her duffel bag, she exited the bathroom and was not even surprised to find Chris sitting on the floor in the hallway, playing something on his phone with his crutch resting against the wall by his side.

“How long have you been waiting there?”

He looked up from his phone sheepishly. “Uh… a little? I don’t know, Ash, you sounded pretty out of it, I was afraid you’d slip in the tub or something.”

“I’m not an old lady that needs handlebars in the shower, Chris” she said with exasperation. “But… thanks. I mean, for worrying so much about me and everything.”

“Hey, no, I’m sorry.” He pulled himself off the floor and limped toward her. “I get it, you needed a moment to yourself. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be so annoying.”

Ashley responded by closing her eyes and putting her arms around him. He smelled like something that was very masculine but at the same time sweet and musky. Or maybe she was just making it up in her head. She was so tired.

Chris hugged her back tightly. Ashley felt a bit dizzy, almost like her head was floating. She had imagined how it would feel like to feel this close to her crush, but reality exceeded any previous expectations by far. She felt safe in his embrace, safe like his sole presence negated all the outside dangers and dark forces and blocked out the bad thoughts. She could feel his breathing and heartbeat under her fingertips.

“Why are you so sweet to me?” She mumbled against his chest.

He stroked her back gently, humming in contentment.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”


	2. Gum Disease Awareness Campaign

“Did you know Cathy Daniels is fucking Professor Jameson? Unbelievable.”

“No way! Isn’t he married? And how do you know that’s true anyway?”

“You know Debbie, my friend from yoga class? She saw them together in a bar the other night. She said they were practically eating each other’s faces.”

“They weren’t even worried about somebody recognizing them?”

“It was outside of campus. You know that inner city bar, the Oedipus?”

“Yeah. Isn’t the lighting there like really crappy? Maybe your friend confused them with someone else.”

“Nah, she was pretty sure it was them. What does Cathy see in him? He’s not even attractive.”

“He must have some secret charm I guess. Maybe she’s into older guys. Or maybe he’s just awesome at giving oral.”

“Ugh, that’s an image I definitely _do not_ need in my head.”

Jessica clutched her books against her chest and tried to tune out the voices of her classmates. Two weeks ago she would have gladly joined the gossiping, but now she did not want to hear any of it. It was hard enough to focus and pay attention during lectures with the background noises in her head without adding pointless chatter on top of it. The two girls were talking animatedly ahead of her as they walked across the long corridor, their footsteps echoing loudly on the white linoleum. One of them was munching on a granola bar as they went. Jessica saw her crumpling the plastic wrapper into a ball and throwing it in a garbage bin on the wall without even stopping by. The plastic ball made a curve in the air and landed perfectly inside the bin. They only had a small break after the morning classes before their lab rounds and the simulation lab was on the other side of the building, so most of the students in Jessica’s class just grabbed a snack from the vending machine and ate it quickly on their way there.

“You okay, Jess?” One of the girls asked, looking over her shoulder at her. “You’re unusually quiet today.”

“Yeah, I’m fine” Jessica said, forcing up a smile. “I’m just tired. I stayed up late last night studying for that Perio test tomorrow.”

“Oh, shit!” One of the girls cried out. “I had completely forgotten about that one!”

The two girls then went on to discuss what they thought would be on the test and seemingly forgot about Jessica again. They reached the end of the corridor, where the elevator was. One of them pushed the button to call for the elevator as she went over her notes out loud, her friend coaxing her to help her remember all the important data.

The elevator doors opened with a ding and the two girls stepped inside. Jessica just stared at it, her palms suddenly sweaty.

“Umm… Jess? Aren’t you coming?”

She smiled nervously. “You know what, I think I’ll take the stairs. I’ll catch up with you guys.”

“It’s five floors up.”

“It’s… my new exercise routine. I try to use any opportunity to work out during the day.”

Her classmate raised her eyebrows. “Alright, health freak. See you up there.”

By the time she reached the simulation lab, she was out of breath and five minutes late. The DDS gave her a disapproving look when he saw her enter the lab.

“Practice dummies don’t care about tardiness, Jessica” he said, handing to her the worksheet for the day. “But at some point you’ll have to practice on real patients, and those are much more demanding when it comes to punctuality.”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Haines, it won’t happen again.”

She sighed and started arranging the instruments on the metal tray. It was going to be a long day.

Jessica knew what other people thought of her. They thought she was just another immature blonde with a fake smile and an annoying personality who decided to become a dental hygienist because she wasn’t smart enough to go to actual dental school. Well, for starters, her smile was not fake. It only looked fake because she had a bit of an overbite, but it wasn’t like she could do anything about it, it was genetic (thanks mom). And dental hygiene school was much harder than one may think, thank you very much.

Her hands itched to take her phone out of her bag and call Mike. She had last spoken to him last night, when he had walked her to her dorm after an evening of holding hands under the table in the library and sharing the last piece of cheesecake in the cafeteria. She had clung to him a bit too strongly when he had kissed her goodnight, but he had just smiled at her and wished her good dreams before leaving.

When she was finished in the lab, she remembered they had opened a new bowling alley that Mike had said in passing that he wanted to check out. She was going to text him to suggest they went there for the evening, when she remembered that he had basketball practice that day. Frustrated, she went through the contact list in her phone. She was not in the mood to spend the rest of the day on her own.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she called Matt.

“Hello?” he answered.

“Hi, Matt, it’s me, Jess.”

“What’s the matter? Did something happen?”

“No, I just… I was wondering if you wanted to hang out for a while? Have a cup of coffee, something like that?”

“Right now?”

“I mean, if you’re busy, I totally get it, never mind, forget it-“

“Jessica” he cut off her nervous rambling. “I’d love to. I was just finishing a paper, but it’s not due until next Wednesday, so I can spare a couple of hours. Meet you at the coffee shop opposite the Administration building?”

“Yeah, sure. Great.”

“I’ll be there in ten.”

It was nice to have a friend that she could open up to. Mike was wonderful, but she understood that he had a life and he couldn’t be there for her 24/7. He worried too much about Jessica already.

After their night of horror in the mountains, Jessica had found herself bonding with Matt in a way that she had not expected. He had found her in the dark and been there with her when the chopper had come to their rescue.

They talked about their respective classes and asked each other how they were doing. Matt was adjusting surprisingly well to college routine after their experience. He had joined several clubs and campus organizations lately, so Jessica was surprised he had managed to squeeze in an evening to hang out with her in his crazy schedule. She guessed that loading himself with a ton of schoolwork and extracurricular activities was as good a method as any to forget about the painful memories.

Later, they ended sitting on a bench in the park, watching the sunset together. There was a layer of snow over the grass and the weather was still too cold for long afternoon strolls, so there weren’t many people around. Just a woman walking her dog and a couple of kids making a snowman.

“I think my parents were going to get a divorce.” Jessica said out of the blue. Matt looked at her but didn’t say anything, waiting for her to continue. “I mean, before… you know. They wouldn’t tell me, but I could sense it. Every time I went to visit, it seemed like they were always arguing. It had been a long time coming, you know? My mom was never happy about my dad not having a stable work schedule, she was always complaining about him never being at home when she needed him. At least when I lived with them, they were too busy worrying about my grades and grounding me for breaking my curfew to think about their own problems. I guess when I moved out for college, things just got worse. But then that damn weekend happened, and they stopped arguing.” She laughed humorlessly. “Having their daughter almost dying is what saved their marriage.”

Matt squeezed her shoulder. “My parents got divorced when I was fourteen. I know it sucks. Look, whatever happens, just try to remember that they really care about you and they just want to see you happy.”

She gave him a tiny smile in gratitude.

“So… how are things with Emily?” She asked.

The expression on his face at the question made her regret her choice of conversation topic immediately.

“Emily and I broke up last week.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was inevitable.” He sighed, pulling at the strings of his parka. “After everything that happened, I’m not the least surprised that she just wants to keep to herself. But I didn’t think she would take it so badly. We had a huge fight, and she said that she didn’t want to have anything to do with any of us anymore and that she was going to start sending applications to transfer to a different college. I tried to reason with her, to convince her to not make any rushed decisions, but she wouldn’t have any of it. She accussed me of taking the group’s side over hers. I told her there are no ‘sides’ to this. She pretty much stopped listening after that.”

Jessica gave him a sad look. For all that she had disliked Emily, she knew that their breakup must have been hard on Matt. “Did she tell you where she intended to transfer?”

“She had a few choices, and coincidentally all of them are on the other side of the country. Apparently they have the best pre-Law programs back there.”

“Are you okay, Matt?”

“I’ll get over it with time. Don’t worry.”

They fell back on a comfortable silence and just watched the snow turn different shades of pink and golden in the distance.

“It’s getting late. I think we should go.” Jessica said after a while.

“Yes please. My butt is freezing in this bench.”

* * *

 

Upon reflection, Chris didn’t know why he had been so scared of revealing his feelings to Ashley before. His main worry at the time had been the fear of her treating him differently. He appreciated their friendship too much to risk losing it over a crush. Moreover, he wasn’t sure of how relationships were supposed to work and he was sure he would screw everything up sooner or later. But now, he was realizing that their relationship had not changed all that much after their mutual confession of feelings. They were basically doing the same things they had been doing before. They still studied together, still met for lunch at the same places, still joked and talked about everything. Except that now there was a lot of kissing and touching involved. And maybe a corny pet name or two. But nobody needed to know about that.

He was in his dorm room, working on some Calculus II homework, but his mind kept drifting off. His roommate, Dave Spiegel, had left to meet up with some friends an hour before. Chris eyed his phone lying on the corner of his desk and forced himself to look back at the graphs and equations in his notebook. He knew Ashley was probably in the library, making the most use of her time on campus so she didn’t have to go home just yet. Groaning, he grabbed the phone and started typing.

_My roommate’s out. Wanna come over for a while?_

It took her less than a minute to answer.

_Sure. On my way :)_

It wasn’t the first time she had visited him in his room, but he still felt a wave of excited anticipation whenever he was expecting her. They didn’t do much apart from cuddling, talking, and watching movies together, but those hours that they spent together in the privacy of his room were always the best times of the week. Sometimes they would forgo the movie to do some heavy groping with their clothes on, but they hadn’t taken it any further yet. Chris knew they were both thinking of the same thing, but neither of them wanted to rush it. He didn’t mind taking things slow at all. He didn’t want to look back one day and regret not cherishing every moment, every memory.

He bolted for the door the second he heard knocking. Ashley was standing there, looking exceedingly cute in her blue peacoat and white beret. She greeted him with a peck on the lips and entered the room.

“How was your day?” She asked him, taking off her coat and folding it over a chair.

“Alright I guess. I think one of my teachers might have early onset dementia. He keeps stopping in the middle of sentences to ramble about his pet iguana or the food processing industry. He keeps calling me ‘Tugger’ when we’re in the lab. I don’t even know how they still allow him to teach.”

“Because tenure, that’s why.” She said, hopping on the bed and toeing off her boots. He joined her and wrapped his arms around her waist, smelling her hair. Ashley hummed and rummaged inside her backpack until she found a DVD case. “I found this little gem in the library. I thought we could watch it together.”

He took a look at the title on the case. _Arsenic and Old Lace_. “You’ve been a bit obsessed with old Hollywood lately, don’t you think?”

“I’m just trying to become a cultured, sophisticated young woman. Besides, Cary Grant has great comedic timing. And don’t forget about his dashing looks.” She said cheekily.

“Oh, should I get jealous of your infatuation with a long dead actor?” He joked, nuzzling her neck.

She giggled. Chris loved it when he found her ticklish spots, and she had _lots_ of those. He had read somewhere that virgins were especially ticklish, but maybe that was just a myth.

“Come on, lover boy, let’s watch the movie. I can’t stay here all night.” The painful reminder that she couldn’t stay for long made the smile fall off his face for a moment, but he tried not to think about it. Ashley had a mother waiting for her at home and he couldn’t just keep her to himself permanently. They couldn’t get everything they wanted at once, they would have to work for it. He had already lost his best friend, he could not afford to take for granted what he still had left.

At some point in the middle of the movie, particularly in the middle of some intense making out on their part, the door opened and Chris’ roommate strolled in. They froze with a deer in the highlights look, trying to look as innocent as possible. They were probably failing pretty badly at that, considering that Ash still had her hand underneath Chris’ shirt and he could feel a trickle of spit hanging off the corner of his mouth.

“Hello, lovebirds” Dave adressed them, not even paying attention to them as he looked at his phone. He dropped his backpack on the floor and searched for something in the drawers of his desk. “Don’t mind me, I’m just here to get my flash drive. Here it is!” He closed the drawer and made to leave again. “Bye, Ashley! You look great today!” he added as he walked out the door.

“Hey, that’s my flash drive, Spiegel!” Chris called out after him. “You better not lose it! I have important stuff in it!”

Ashley chuckled. “Does he do that very often?”

“What, borrow my things without asking? All the time.”

“No, I mean, come into the room that you two share without knocking. Don’t you guys have like a code?”

“A code?” He repeated, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“Yeah, you know, that code that guys have when they hook up in the dorms so their roommate doesn’t walk in at an inconvenient time and things get… awkward. The hanging a tie on the doorknob kind of code?”

“Oh… that. Well…” He scratched his neck, feeling a bit uncomfortable. “I can gladly say that Dave and I have a very civil and very respectful relationship as roommates, but that kind of conversation hasn’t arisen yet.”

“And aren’t you worried of catching _him_ hooking up with someone in the room?”

“As far as I know, I think Dave prefers to keep his hookups outside of campus.”

Ashley sighed. She idly traced circles on his wrist with her fingers, looking wistful.

“I just wish we had a place our own where we didn’t have to worry about other people.” She said softly. “Between classes, work, and everything, we hardly have any time to see each other. It feels like we’re doing something illegal.”

“I thought doing something forbidden kept things more interesting” he teased.

“Yeah, for a while, but eventually it just gets annoying. If only we could get an apartment or something. I hate being broke.”

Chris kissed the top of her head. “You know you can come to my parents’ place on the weekends whenever you want. I know we have to keep the PDA low when we’re there, but it’s nice and quiet. And my parents adore you.”

She gave him a look of skepticism. “They’ve met me exactly three times.”

“My mom has a big bleeding heart. And my dad will automatically like anyone who laughs at his lame jokes.”

“As if your jokes are any better, Mr. Magoo. Come on, I want to see how this movie ends.”

They finished the rest of the movie in silence. When the credits rolled by, Ashley looked at her watch and quickly hurried to put on her boots. “Shit, I should get moving if I want to catch the last bus.”

“I’ll drive you.” He argued.

“I think I can survive a bus ride by myself, Chris.”

“Please, Ashley. It’s late. I don’t like the idea of you walking down the streets at night on your own.”

He may or may not have used what Ashley called his ‘puppy eyes’. A technique that he absolutely had not practiced in the mirror every morning for the past week, no sir.

“Fine. But if you keep doing this, I’m gonna have to start helping you pay for the gas.”

“That I wouldn’t mind.”

The dorm was quiet when they left the room. Although visiting hours were over and technically Ashley shouldn’t be seen around the building at that time, nobody gave a shit to enforce those rules as long as they kept a low profile.

“Did you like the movie?” She asked him as they walked across the parking lot.

“Yeah, it was pretty good. But I think some of the baseball jokes completely flew over my head.”

“Don’t worry, that movie has some very dated jokes. I don’t think anyone below the age of eighty will get them.”

“One day we’ll tell our grandchildren about Saturday Night Live and The Office and we’ll have to explain the jokes to them.” Chris prophesized.

“I’ll leave that to you. I’ll be too busy knitting in a rocking chair and complaining about my arthritis.”

One of the streetlights in the parking lot began to flicker. A stray cat ran between the cars below it just before the light went out completely, leaving a gap of space shrouded in darkness. The yellow eyes of the cat gleamed from the dark spot and observed the young couple as they got on the car and left.


	3. Brenda never learned to whistle

Kevin Munroe’s childhood had revolved around barbeques. Every single happy memory, every event worth remembering, every coming of age passage had involved a barbeque one way or another. His parents had been social butterflies, both of them, and they had loved any excuse to get the grill going and gather all their neighbours and friends in their backyard. Kevin’s father, Howard Munroe Jr., had bought the first portable gas grill in their family in 1959, after months of saving for it. He had hoped it would impress his girlfriend’s parents. Turned out it was not the barbeque grill itself that impressed Mr. Richardson, it was the fact that he had worked hard for it, depriving himself of all kinds of big and small luxuries so he could buy that damn grill. And he had done it because he thought Mr. Richardson’s daughter was worth months of financial sacrifice. And then some. Still, the barbeque they had thrown for their wedding banquet had been a blast.

There had been so many Saturdays in Kevin’s life filled with laughter and music and the smell of cooking meat that he could not recall all of them, but the most important ones were branded into his memory. When his little brother Luke had been born in 1967. When his cousin Stanley had returned from Vietnam in 1973. When the softball league Kevin played in had won the County championship in 1975. When his aunt Marla had been promoted at her job in 1979. When he’d graduated from college and gotten his first white collar job in 1985. When he’d proposed to Brenda Geller in 1986.

Kevin could not remember the first barbeque of his life, but it had left an impression on him all the same. It had been during the spring of 1963. A week after Kevin had been born, his parents had thrown a barbeque and invited the whole family to welcome the new member of the Munroe clan ‘properly’, like his late grandfather Howard Munroe Sr. would say. This was a tradition that Kevin had perpetuated with the births of his two children. There were no incidents during baby Claudia’s first barbeque; but during baby Mike’s celebration, there had been a huge storm that everyone who had attended the party would remember for a long time. It was mid September, and Mike was only a week old. The weather was still hot and humid, the last traces of summer refusing to leave without a fight. It had been sunny and windy most of the day, with only a few clouds crossing the sky and disappearing in the horizon as fast as they had come. Around 7 p.m., people had started to sit down around the picnic tables in the folding chairs they had brought themselves from their homes (Brenda had made sure to phone all the guests in advance to explain that they did not have enough chairs for everybody, and their friends had been very understanding of the situation and were very happy to oblige). Kevin and his brother Luke were tending to the steaks on the grill while Brenda was sitting with Mike in her arms, talking to her friend Susan. Nobody had paid attention to the ominous dark clouds looming above them. One of their neighbours, Mr. McKay, was a very patriotic man. He had a big flagpole in his front yard, a massive steel mast embed into the ground with a small concrete platform that he had built himself. The neighbours disapproved of that sumptuous flagpole and many of them had expressed their concerns repeatedly; they said it could attract lightning and that it was just a disaster waiting to happen. And oh boy had they been right.

Kevin remembered how he had felt the hairs on his arm stand on edge all of a sudden, how the air had felt heavier in a sense, a bit like it was charged with energy, like when you watch the footage of an explosion in really slow motion and first you see the air vacuuming the space and being sucked into a single point just before all of that energy is released with the force of a thousand suns. There was a flash of light and a deafening noise. Kevin looked behind him, and the next thing he knew, the flag on Mr. McKay’s yard across the street was on fire, and the flames were extending to the trees nearby.

Kevin dropped his cooking pliers. Brenda screamed. After that, everything had been complete chaos. Everybody had run inside the house, afraid that the next bolt of lightning would fall much closer. Kevin and Brenda had watched petrified from their windows while Luke called the fire department from the kitchen telephone. Claudia had clung to her daddy’s legs, whimpering in fear. Kevin had consoled her, telling her that it was over and that nobody had gotten hurt, and then he had looked at his wife. And then he had realized for the first time that baby Mike was not even crying. At first Kevin had thought that his son had somehow managed to stay asleep during the whole ordeal, as ridiculous as it sounded, but then he saw that Mike was very much awake. His unfocused, still unseeing infant eyes were darting around the room, his mouth making small gurgling noises. Kevin had reached out a hand to his son’s face gently, and Mike had gripped his father’s forefinger in his tiny fist immediately. Kevin knew that was just something babies did, they clutched things by pure instinct, but in that moment, it had felt like Mike had been trying to soothe him, to transmit calm and reassurance to his agitated parents.

That should have been his first clue.

They had taken Claudia and Mike to the doctor the very next day. Brenda had been especially worried that Mike’s ears had been damaged by the noise, but their paediatrician had assured the Munroes that both of their children were completely fine. They had refrained from throwing any more barbeque parties for a long time after that.

Kevin had always associated barbeques to celebrations, to moments of joy and happiness. But there were many ways to celebrate something, and sometimes it was difficult to tell whether something had a reason to call for a celebration or not. It was all a matter of perspective. Having your son come back safe and sound from a near death experience was definitely something to be grateful of, but he was not so sure that it called for a celebration in the traditional sense. And besides, you simply could not throw a barbeque in the middle of winter, when you had two inches of snow covering the backyard.

Kevin Munroe was not unfamiliar with tragedy. He had seen plenty of bad things in his fifty-one years of age. But nothing could have ever prepared him for finding his son battered and scared, acting nothing like himself. Mike had refused to tell them in detail what had happened to him, had insisted that he was fine and brushed off his bruises as just bumps and scratches. But he had avoided eye contact with them the whole time. Kevin knew that his son was not the same person that he had been twenty-four hours before.

The men in their family did not show weakness. They bulldozed through pain and sadness with stubbornness and determination, setting themselves as examples of endurance for those around them. Kevin’s grandfather had told him as much decades ago. Howard Munroe Sr. had showed his grandson the correct way to fly a kite, and he had said: “We Munroes are natural leaders, Kevin. Every single decision I have made in my life, I made it with the firm conviction that I was doing the right thing. Look at your father, he’s an upstanding member of his community, people respect him and come to him for help. You will be a leader too, Kevin. And your children will be leaders as well.”

Maybe that was the problem. Kevin had always encouraged his children to do their best in everything, had always pushed them to be overachievers. Maybe he had pushed them too far.

Three weeks had passed by, and his son still wouldn’t tell them what had happened to him.

“Where do I put these boxes, dad?” Mike’s question pulled the man out of his reverie.

They were both in the garage, trying to sort out all the junk accumulated there in preparation for the annual spring cleanup. Jesus, that place was a mess.

“Oh, those are mostly spare parts for the car and old tools. Leave them in a corner, I’ll put them in one of the lockers as soon as we can.”

“Wait… what’s this?” Mike pulled something out of one of the boxes. It was a round metallic object with a small lever attached to it. It was partially covered in rust.

“Let me see” He held out his hand and Mike passed him the object. Kevin examined it briefly. “Oh, I think it’s your sister’s old bicycle bell. How on earth did it end up here?”

“She used to annoy everyone to no end with that thing” Mike said.

Kevin chuckled. “Sure she did. She was so proud to be the first girl in her class to learn to ride a bike without training wheels. She would ride her bike up and down the neighborhood every afternoon after school, ringing her bell happily to announce her presence. She was rather territorial with the whole thing. Your mother had to apologize to Mrs. Stewart several times for the noise.”

“Mrs. Stewart was an old hag.” Mike stated.

“Don’t let your mother hear you say that.” Kevin left the bell on a shelf and brushed his hands on his pants. “Have you spoken to your sister recently?”

Mike shrugged. “She called me the other day. She asked me how I was doing. She’s making lots of friends at her new job.”

“You know Claudia would come visit if she could, Mike.” Kevin explained. “Her position at her job is very precarious right now. She can’t just take a bunch of days off, she already did that three weeks ago and I know it got her in trouble with her boss. And plane tickets aren’t exactly cheap.”

“Dad, it’s okay, I understand.”

“I just wish you would talk to someone” Kevin confessed. Mike ducked his head. He had been expecting that conversation and he was not up for it. “It doesn’t have to be me or your mother, but Michael, you seriously need to talk to somebody.”

Mike glanced up at his father. His eyes looked weary and filled with defeat and sadness. His mouth was slightly open, like he had so many things to say but couldn’t bring himself to do it and the words were hanging from his tongue, waiting to spill.

“Dad…” he said, hesitantly. “Have you ever felt bad with yourself? I mean have you felt really shitty, like you look at yourself in the mirror and you can’t understand how anyone would want to put up with you?”

Kevin gaped at his son, not knowing what to say.

“Michael… what are you trying to tell me?”

“Dad, last year… I did something bad. I did something really bad.” Mike looked like he was about to burst into tears. Kevin put a hand on his son’s shoulder, but the younger man pulled back. “Hannah was such a sweet girl, dad, you have no idea. And I treated her horribly. She opened up to me, and I used it against her to make fun of her. I made her run away _in tears_ , dad. If you had seen the way we mocked her… you would _hate_ me, dad.”

Kevin looked at his son intently. He had been waiting for this moment, for his son to finally communicate with him. But now that he was seeing the extent of Mike’s suffering, he was afraid of saying the wrong thing and ruining everything.

“Let’s just go inside for a minute.”

 

“Do you know the story of how your mother and I met?” Kevin asked his son, pouring him a glass of lemonade from the fridge.

Mike stared at the glass on the table for a moment before taking a gulp of it.

“Yeah. She had lost her dog and you helped her find it.”

“Well, that’s the short version.” Kevin acknowledged. “I have never told you that story in full detail. You see, I was going to the store to buy some cigarettes. I decided to take a shortcut across the park because it was late and the store was about to close, and I desperately needed a cigarette. And then I saw a girl running in circles, shouting ‘Bogart!’ ‘Bogart!’ Something in me pushed me to go to her and ask what was wrong. She told me that her dog had cut loose from his leash and run off after a squirrel. She had tried calling for him, but the dumb dog would run away when she came closer. I told her to try whistling, that a whistle sometimes worked more effectively than calling dogs by their name. Something about dogs understanding high-pitched noises better than human voices or some crap like that. And then she said ‘I can’t whistle’.”

Mike looked at him expectantly. Kevin took a swig of lemonade, the taste cool and bittersweet on his tongue.

“I guess I looked at her like she was crazy.” He continued. “I said something among the lines of ‘what kind of idiot doesn’t know how to whistle?’. Well, maybe I phrased it in a way that was more polite, but the sentiment was obvious. I was a bit pissed because I knew I wasn’t going to get to the store before they closed now. I’m not excusing my behavior, I just want you to understand that I wouldn’t have been so mean to her had I had my dose of nicotine. There she was, upset because her dog was lost, and I was making fun of her for something as stupid as not knowing how to whistle.”

Kevin leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. He was not used to big heart-to-heart talks like this.

“In the end, we found Bogart taking a nap behind a bush. I guess he grew tired of chasing squirrels after a while. I apologized to your mother and offered to accompany her home. She agreed reluctantly. And you know how the story ends.”

Mike gave him a sad smile. “You two got a happy ending after all.”

“Yeah, the perfect little family with the house with a white picket fence and all that. The archetype of the American dream. Look, Mike” he looked at his son right in the eye “we’ve all done some stupid shit when we were younger. But you can’t keep beating yourself up for the rest of your life. The best thing you can do is accept that you did something wrong and learn from your mistakes. So you never do it again.”

Mike nodded, looking at his half-empty glass of lemonade. Things wouldn’t get better magically after that talk between the two of them, but it was progress.

“Dad, did mom ever learn to whistle after that?”

Kevin pulled his head back and let out a sonorous laugh.

“No, she did not. I tried to teach her a few times, but to this day your mother still can’t whistle for shit.” He stood up from his chair and patted his son on the back “Come on, let’s get back to work. Your mother will be back from the supermarket any minute now.”

 

* * *

 Ashley’s mother was sitting at the kitchen table when she came down the stairs, filling the crossword with a cup of coffee. Sundays were Charlotte’s day off and she liked to just sit around in silence reading the paper or something else. Her job did not give her many gratifications, and Ashley had learned to just leave her mother alone when she got through the door, grumbling and lamenting her bad luck. Theirs was a quiet home.

“Um, mom, can I borrow your car for a couple of hours?” Ashley asked from the door. “I’m going to have lunch with Sam.”

Her mother raised her eyes from her crossword and pursed her lips.

“The last time I let you take my car, I ended up paying for a new bumper.”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Ashley protested. “Some dimwit rear-ended me!”

“You watch that tone with me, young lady” her mother said sternly. “Look, I just know how nervous you get driving around busy centric streets. To be honest, I’d feel much safer if you just took the bus.”

“Gee, mom, thanks for the vote of confidence. Why did you urge me to get a driver’s license as soon as possible if you’re not going to let me drive your car?”

“Because knowing how to drive is a necessary skill that any capable adult should master, honey.” Her mother pointed out. “Owning a car, on the other hand, is a privilege that has to be earned.”

Ashley threw her arms out in the air in exasperation. “Whatever. I’ll just text her to let her know that I’ll be late.”

She turned to leave, when her mother kept her back by saying:

“You know, Ash, the next bus won’t pass by for another half hour. You could sit down here so we could chat a bit. We never really have time to talk…”

Ashley looked at the clock on the wall and then at the empty seat on the table, unsure. Even if her mother made it sound like she just wanted to have an innocent talk, it was never so with Charlotte Sherman. When Ashley was alone with her mother, she always felt like she was being interrogated and judged harshly for everything she did. She knew that her mother didn’t do it on purpose, at least not every time, but it didn’t make things any easier between them.

“Sure…” She sat down slowly, folding her hands in her lap.

“How’s school?”

“Good. I’m really enjoying my classes this semester.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Her mother stirred the coffee with a spoon in slow circular motions. “And how’s Chris? I haven’t seen him for a few days.”

Ashley squinted her eyes for a second, wondering if there was a double meaning to those words. She was just being paranoid, she decided.

“He’s great. He’s just been a bit busy with midterms, you know.”

“You know what I think, baby. When you find a decent boy, you should grasp him with all your might and never let him go.”

“Okay, mom.”

Charlotte sighed. “I just want you to be happy, Ash.”

“I am. I am very happy.” Her voice sounded flat to her own ears.

“You don’t look very happy, dear. I don’t see you smiling much. You’ve been distant and quiet lately.”

“You say that like that’s something out of the ordinary” Ashley spat back. “And you know perfectly well why I have been distant and quiet.”

“Actually, I don’t, since you won’t tell me anything.”

There was a tone of accusation in her mother’s words and Ashley could not take it anymore. She rose from her seat.

“We’ve had this conversation before, mom. I’ve said I don’t want to talk about it, okay? I just can’t. Why can’t you just accept my decision and let me figure it out by myself?”

Her mother gave her a hard look. “You can’t keep closing yourself off like that, Ashley. Nobody will like you if you keep being so negative all the time. You’re going to lose all your friends with that attitude.”

Ashley froze, speechless. She could not believe that her own mother had said those words to her.

“I’m… I’m going to leave now. I don’t want to be late.”

She walked through the door not looking back. Her hands were trembling slightly. Charlotte didn’t try to call for her.

 

She managed to stay calm during the walk to the bus stop, and when she paid for her ticket. She was perfectly calm when she took a seat in one of the back rows and the bus pulled away. However, halfway during the trip to the mall where she was going to meet Sam, she could not hold the angry tears back any longer.

Sam was waiting for her at the stop. When Ashley got off the bus, her friend took a look at her and gave her a hug.

“What’s wrong, Ash?”

“Can we… can we just go somewhere quiet, please?”

They sat down on one of the benches surrounding the fountain that was in front of the shopping center. It was cold outside, but tolerable.

“Sometimes talking to my mother is like… like walking through a minefield.” Ashley told her. “It’s like no matter what I say, she always gets offended or thinks I’m talking back to her or something. So I just, I avoid having to speak to her at any cost. Which is kinda difficult considering that I live with her.”

Sam took Ashley’s hand and squeezed it, in an attempt to lift her friend’s spirits.

“You’re a good person, Ash. Forget what everyone else says. I know you, and you’re smart, and caring, and very mature. Ash, you’re a great person.”

Ashley ducked her head down. Arguing with her mother always left her exhausted. “How do you do it, Sam? How are you always so optimistic and motivated and… you?”

“I don’t know. I guess I was taught that feeling hopeless never lead to anything and it was a waste of time.”

“Back at the mountain… you didn’t even look scared. You kept calm and collected the whole night. I wish I could do that.”

Sam snorted, like that was the most ridiculous thing she’d heard all day. “Oh, believe me, I was scared shitless. But that’s the trick when trying to be brave, you know? ‘Fake it till you make it’, like my soccer coach used to say.

* * *

 “That pie was delicious, mom. New recipe?” Mike asked his mother as he helped her collect the dishes after lunch. He followed her to the kitchen, where she had started scrubbing the biggest grease stains off the plates in the sink before putting them in the dishwasher.

“Mrs. Winter and I exchanged a few baking tips the other day. She may have disclosed some of her secrets to me.”

“Did you have to bribe her for it?” He joked.

“Nah, she only wanted a claim on my immortal soul, nothing important” Brenda deadpanned.

“Good thing we don’t have much of that in this family, eh mom?”

“Indeed.” She took the dishes from his hands and soaked them under the running faucet. “It’s a real shame that Jessica couldn’t join us for lunch.”

“She was going to spend the day with her studying group. She has a big test tomorrow.”

“Mm-hm. Education is important. You two make a really lovely couple, Michael. And you’ve been very sweet lately. I had been missing you, son…”

Mike shifted restlessly. It made him uncomfortable when his mother started praising him. He felt like he did not deserve any of it. He looked at his mother, always so patient and understanding. When he thought of all the times he had acted out to her for some stupid reason he could kick himself. He had the best parents a boy could ask for, and he had taken them for granted.

“I just… I realized that I’ve been a real brat for too long.” He said. Whispering, he added “I just want you to feel proud of me again, mom.”

He felt a hand touch his face. He looked up at his mother’s smiling face. She stroked his cheek like she used to do when he was a kid and she would come to his bed at night to tuck him in and ask him what got him so sad.

“Mike… I’ve always been proud of you. I’m proud of you every single day.”

Mike thought of waxy, monstrous faces with mouths full of sharp teeth. He thought of cadaveric creatures with unnaturally long limbs crawling up the walls above his head. He thought of pointing a gun at Emily’s face, how she had first looked away and tried to curl up on herself to hide, and how her eyes had widened up with the realization that he was really willing to do it, he could be capable of shooting his friend. He juxtaposed that image with the face of his mother, smiling at him kindly and telling him that she was proud of him.

And he just could not take it any longer.

He covered the hand on his cheek with his own.

“Mom” he croaked. “I know you want to know what happened to us in the mountain. Well, something happened. Something we couldn’t understand, and we were scared, and I was just trying to make the right thing, okay mom? I want you to know that. I almost- I almost did something terrible.” He could feel the tears running down his cheeks. “I was going to do something awful, but I was _so afraid_ , mom, I was so afraid and I didn’t know what was happening, and I couldn’t think clearly, please, mom, please, I need you to understand…”

He was full-on sobbing now. Brenda wrapped him in her arms and just let him cry on her shoulder. He hadn’t cried in front of his parents since he was eleven years old.

“I need to know that you to forgive me, mom” he wept. “Please, mom, tell me that you forgive me.”

“Of course I forgive you, Michael” she whispered. “Never doubt that for a second. It’s alright, it’s over. It’s alright.”

Mike looked up for a moment and saw his father watching them silently from the door. The older man turned around and left quietly before his wife could notice his presence.

Mike pulled away from the embrace and wiped the snot and tears on his face with his sleeve. He could sense his mother making a grimace at that nasty habit that she hated so much and smiled a little.

“I’m going to go outside for a bit, okay mom? Catch some fresh air.”

“Yeah.” She said. “I think that’ll do you good.”

 

Mike found his father sitting on the steps of the back porch. Without saying a word, he sat down next to his old man.

“I think maybe you’re not feeling up for it” his father said after a while. “But if you want, I’d like to tell you another story.”

Mike smiled. Two big father-son moments in one day? Must be Christmas in February.

“I’m always in the mood for one of your stories, dad.”

“I’m happy to hear that, Mike.” His father went quiet for a few moments, like he didn’t know how to start. “Have I ever told you about my cousin Stanley?”

“No, I don’t think you have.”

“Well, my cousin Stanley was a very popular boy. He was always smiling, was always nice to everybody. He was also very good-looking, all the girls in the neighborhood would giggle when they passed him by on the street. Stanley taught me to blow bubbles with chewing gum and to shoot pebbles with a slingshot. When he was twenty years old, he enlisted to go fight in Vietnam. Everybody was getting drafted back then, but he went voluntarily. He came back years later, alive and with none of his body parts missing, which back then was a miracle in and of itself. But he didn’t come back the same person, Mike. He was not my cousin Stanley anymore. After he came back, he never talked to anyone about Vietnam. The first time I saw him after he came back, he had this look in his eyes…” his father looked at him, and Mike felt a twinge of fear at what was reflected on his old man’s face. “You had the exact same look in your eyes the day we picked you up from the hospital. It was the exact same expression that Stanley had after experiencing the horrors of war.”

Mike could sense where this story was going, but he needed to hear it himself.

“Dad… what happened to Stanley?”

His father ducked his head and looked at his hands.

“He died, Michael.” Kevin murmured. “Heroin overdose. In 1981, only a month before I graduated from High School. I know it sounds horrible to say this, but I’m surprised he lasted so many years before the drugs ended him. I guess he kept it all bottled up, and in the end the heroin was the only thing that could keep the demons at bay. That was before the AIDS panic really started to spread among the general public and they found out that you could catch it from used syringes. Some people forget that the drug itself can kill you just as quickly.”

Mike was at a loss for words.

“Son, I need you to promise me something.”

“Of course, dad. Anything.”

Kevin grabbed his son’s shoulder firmly and looked him in the eye.

“I need you to promise me that you will never turn to substance abuse to ease the pain. I’m serious, Michael. No drugs, no booze. I know sometimes the darkness can be overwhelming and it can feel very tempting to reach for a bottle or something more numbing, I’ve been there myself. But I need you to promise me that you will never do that.” The man’s voice had an edge of hysteria. “You’re better than that, Michael. You’re strong. You can’t let it happen to you the same that happened to Stanley, because it will _destroy_ your mother, and it will destroy your sister.” His father made a sound that sounded a bit like a choked back sob. “It will destroy _me_. Do you understand?”

“Yes, dad. I promise, I promise.”

His dad exhaled with relief and hugged him.

“You’re a Munroe, son. Never forget that.”


	4. There’s no answers in the tempest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd say this chapter is more of an interlude. I did my best, but actual engineering students may cringe reading this. Oh well.

February finally rolled into March. The snow melted and was replaced by a layer of frost that covered everything in the mornings like sparkly cobwebs and occasional bursts of cold rain and fog. Chris detested frosty March mornings. There was something about the way the air was both dry and incredibly cold, and it was not the kind of cold from damp snowflakes that fell on you slowly so you could get an idea of what you were up against. No, frosty mornings had the kind of cold that included unforgiving gusts of wind that were invisible but hurt every inch of exposed skin like tiny icy needles. The kind of dry cold that seeped into your bones like a paralyzing venom and left your lips chapped and hurting. Chris used to get easily sick during that time of the year when he was kid, before he hit his growth spurt at around age thirteen.

This one was a particularly sour morning. Chris had slept through his alarm clock, had arrived to class late and without his daily dose of caffeine, had snapped at a classmate who’d asked him to borrow his graphing calculator, and had almost burned his fingertips off with a spot welder in the circuits lab because he had been too distracted by his own sulky thoughts to pay attention to what he was doing.

‘Sulky’ would be too light a word for his state of mind that day, though. ‘Hopeless’ or ‘despondent’ would be more accurate. It was one of _those_ days.

He’d had a nightmare about Josh, and he’d woken up with a lump in his throat and the sensation of a heavy weight in his stomach. The worst part was that he could not remember the dream itself, but the feelings of desperation and sorrow that it had evoked were fresh in his mind. And he knew that those feelings would not leave him for the rest of the day. Lately, the memory of Josh was always in the back of his mind, like a sort of carbon shadow imprinted on his brain. But on particularly bad days, it felt like he was reliving all the bad experiences from Blackwood Mountain. Over and over again.

He had those days every once in a while. On those days when the absence of Josh hurt the most, the world looked gray, hostile. The food would taste bland and unappetizing. Every little noise would annoy him. He wouldn’t feel like talking to anyone. Well, anyone except Ashley.

She had those days too, after all.

“Okay, does anyone here actually know how to operate this oscilloscope?” Jenna Guan’s out loud question pulled him out of his depressive thoughts. “This model looks like it’s from the Stone Age or something.”

“Let me check youtube discreetly.” Her lab partner said, taking out his cell phone. “There’s probably a tutorial by some guy with a heavy German accent in there.”

God, they were grating on his nerves with their incessant whining. Chris didn’t actually mind Jenna that much, but there was something about Darrell Costa that had always rubbed him the wrong way.

Chris did not even look up from what he was working on as he intervened in the conversation. “It’s just the same as any other o-scope. Turn on, check for flat line, set to AC coupling, plug in probe, adjust settings, look at display. Seriously, it’s not rocket science.” He knew that he sounded like a condescending jerk, but in that moment he honestly couldn’t care less.

The two students turned to look at him. They had probably forgotten that he was there.

“Oh thank you, your eminence!” Darrell said sarcastically. “I don’t know what we would do without you.” But he went and did as Chris had instructed.

“Those are some tiny-ass waves. I can’t take a decent measure out of this.” Chris heard the guy complain a moment later.

“You’re working with low voltage, genius. Try using a probe with no attenuation.”

Chris was never one to pick up fights, much less with his classmates. But he was having a shitty day and the only way he knew to deal with it was through passive-aggressiveness, apparently.

It was probably not healthy.

“Whatever, dude.” Darrell rolled his eyes and walked away, presumably to get the probe he needed from one of the shelves at the back of the lab.

Chris could feel Jenna’s eyes in the back of his head, but he didn’t look up. He was afraid to snap and say something more offensive that he would regret later.

“Chris, are you alright?” She asked him softly.

His table was covered in a disarray of circuit boards and pieces of wire. For the last thirty minutes he’d been working on… something. He just couldn’t remember what. He couldn’t remember what his lecturers had been talking about during his morning classes, either. Something about the Bellman-Ford algorithm? No, they had covered that the previous week.

Shit. He was going to fail all of his classes at this rate.

Without saying another word, he gathered his things and made a beeline for the door. He couldn’t stand to be there any minute longer.

“Where are you going, Mr. Phillips?” His professor asked him as he tried to leave.

“I’m… I’m really not feeling well.” He said. “I can stay up later tomorrow to finish the project, but please, right now I- I can’t.”

He guessed he looked as bad as he sounded, because the woman seemed to take pity on him. “I’ll let you go this once.” She said with a raised finger. “But do not let this develop into a habit.”

“I won’t. Thank you, Professor.”

As soon as he rounded the corner in the hall and there was no one in sight, he started running. He ran all the way to his dorm. By the time he reached the entry doors, he was hyperventilating. And it wasn’t because of the physical exertion.

His room was empty, as he expected. His roommate was in class. Chris collapsed on his bed, not even taking his coat off, and he covered his eyes with his arm. He felt like the walls were closing in on him. Perhaps he should have stayed outside, the rational part of his brain suggested. Where there was fresh air and he wouldn’t feel trapped. But on the other hand, anyone could see him having a breakdown out there. He didn’t need to go outside, he needed a place where he could feel safe. But there was not such a place for him.

He pulled out his phone from his pocket and started texting with antsy fingers.

_Hey, when are you free?_

He tried to play it cool. He knew Ashley was in class and he didn’t want to worry her. He just needed some conversation to keep him distracted.

_In a couple of hours. Why?_

His fingers lingered on the keyboard for a moment.

_No reason. I just really want to hear your voice_

So much for acting cool, Christopher.

_Is everything ok?_

There was no use trying to lie now. She was familiar with his speech patterns and could sense when something was wrong by his choice of words.

_I had to leave the lab early. I’m not doing well today_

To put it mildly.

_Chris, where are you? Are you alone?_

_In my dorm. Dave’s in class_

Chris pulled his knees up to his chest and dropped his phone on the pillow. A moment later it vibrated, signaling that a new message had been received. Sighing, he read it.

_Be there in 5 min_

He pictured Ashley sneaking out of the classroom when the lecturer wasn’t looking and he couldn’t help but smile a little. She usually preferred to sit in the back rows, and in times like these it proved to be useful.

He had not locked the door, so when she arrived she simply let herself in and found her boyfriend lying in the fetal position. She closed the door behind her and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Oh, Chris…” she whispered, running her hand through his hair. “What happened?”

He lifted his eyes barely enough to look at her face. Or rather, to look at the mole on her neck. “I… I’ve been acting like an asshole to everyone the whole day, so I figured I’d better recluse myself for a while until it passes.” He paused for a moment before adding, “I can’t get it out of my head, Ash.”

He didn’t need to elaborate. She knew exactly what he was talking about.

He felt her hand brushing his cheek before she gently slid his glasses off his face. Ashley put them down on the desk and then, silently, she took off her coat and lay down next to him, wrapping her arms around his neck so his head was resting in the crook of her neck. She was wearing a cotton sweater that felt soft against his cheek. Any other day he would have made a joke about Ashley practically shoving his face between her boobs. He sighed and put his leg on top of hers.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asked.

He nodded a bit, but still didn’t speak for a few minutes. He had so many thoughts and feelings simmering inside him and he didn’t know how to express them. Ashley kept stroking his hair and didn’t urge him to talk.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about Josh lately.” He started. “And, in retrospect, when I think back of all the conversations we had over the last year, I realize the signs were always there. I saw all the blatant signs that he had stopped taking his meds, but _I chose to ignore them_ , Ashley.”

“No, no, you can’t blame yourself for that.” She said adamantly. “Don’t go there. There was no way you could have predicted what happened. Look, if not even Josh’s own psychiatrist could predict it, how could you expect to do it?”

She had a point, but it didn’t make him feel better.

“But… that’s not all.” He continued. “Because there was always something _off_ with Josh, even when we were kids, you know? I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I knew it was there. I guess I always accepted his eccentricity as a part of who he was and didn’t question it. But… I can’t just blame everything he did that night on a chemical imbalance in his brain or something like that. Because that would reduce Josh to his illness and that isn’t fair on him. I don’t know what to think anymore. I don’t know how to deal with this.”

Chris knew Ashley had conflicted feelings about Josh, to say the least. That was why he expected her to say something that would lay all the blame on Josh and lift it off Chris’ shoulders. However, she didn’t say anything. She just squeezed him tightly and kept whatever thoughts she had about Josh to herself. Chris felt grateful for that.

A few minutes passed in silence between them. A few voices passed on the hall outside the door and faded away. The light coming through the window was getting duller.

“You know, Chris…” she said hesitantly “Regardless of what happened… sometimes I think that at least Josh is now with his sisters. Maybe… maybe he’s in peace now, and is happy with his family somewhere.” She immediately seemed to regret saying that and backpedaled. “No, wait- never mind. I’m sorry. I know you’re an atheist, you probably don’t want to hear that. Just, forget I said that.”

“It’s fine, Ash” Chris brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “To be frank, I’m not sure what I believe anymore. After everything we saw in the mountain…”

“Are you saying that you believe in the afterlife now?” There was genuine curiosity in her voice.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I saw things with my own eyes that shouldn’t be real.” He remembered the wendigos. He would never forget them. “Perhaps… perhaps there are things out there that science can’t explain and I can accept that. Let’s leave it at that. And besides, I’m not an atheist, I’m an agnostic.”

Spirituality was not a topic he’d ever been interested in. But if he was going to discuss it with anyone, he’d rather it was Ashley.

“I’ve also been thinking about that stranger” He said a while later. “The man with the flamethrower. The rangers still haven’t figured out his identity. I saw him die in front of me, and I didn’t even ask him his name. What does that make me?”

“You were too worried about rescuing Josh at the time. Everything was a total madness, it’s normal that you didn’t think about it. And the man didn’t exactly introduce himself either when he went into the lodge, remember? We were all too intimidated to question him. That doesn’t make you a bad person, Chris, it just makes you human.”

A small whine escaped his throat. “But I still accepted his help and followed his advice. And I didn’t ask him his name. What kind of person does that?”

She didn’t know what to answer to that question. They fell silent after that. Chris didn’t know how long they lied there together on the bed, embraced in silence. He felt his eyelids growing heavier and began to fall asleep to the rise and fall of Ashley’s breath.

The door suddenly opened and they both raised their heads to look at it from the bed. Dave was standing in the doorway, his hand on the knob. Chris’ vision was blurry without his glasses, but he knew it was him. Dave looked at them, and they looked at him. For a moment, they just stared at each other, not saying anything. Finally, Dave made up his mind and stepped back, closing the door and walking away. Chris and Ashley were left alone in the room, and they heard Dave’s footsteps growing dim in the hall until they disappeared.

“That was very nice of him.” Ashley commented.

“Yeah” Chris agreed. “He might be irritating sometimes, but he knows when it’s the right time to back away.” He moved so his head was resting on the pillow and he could look at her face. “Tell me about something else. What was that book you were reading?”

Ashley shifted until they were lying side by side, facing each other. “ _The Inimitable Jeeves._ You know it?”

“Not really, no. Is it a class assignment of yours?”

She chuckled. “I wish. No, it’s just a novel about an English gentleman in the 1920s and his valet. It’s part of a well established series, you know?”

“What the hell’s a valet?”

She snickered and kissed him on the lips. He would never get tired of that. “You’re adorable” she said.

Chris blinked and just looked at Ashley for a moment. This close, he didn’t need his glasses to see her features with clarity. Her fair, round face, like a full moon on a clear night. Something like that. Engineering students weren’t known for their poetic skills.

“Do you have it here? The book, I mean.” He asked.

“Yes, it’s in my backpack. Do you want to check it out?”

He chuckled, a bit nervously. “Actually, I was hoping you would read it to me.”

“Like a bedtime story?” She beamed until her smile gave her little wrinkles around the corners of her eyes. Gosh, he was so over his head.

“Yeah, something like that.”

She went through her backpack and produced a small paperback with worn pages. Each bed in there was pushed against the corner of the room, with the headboard under the window and its side along the wall. Ashley sat with her back against the wall and her ankles poking out the border of the bed and Chris put his head on her lap.

“Do you want me to start from the beginning?” She asked.

“Nah, just read from wherever you left it.”

Ashley caressed his hair with one hand as she held the book with the other. “Okay. Let’s see… ‘Chapter five: The Pride of the Woosters Is Wounded’.” She cleared her throat and started reading with a soft and modulated voice. “If there’s one thing I like, it’s a quiet life. I’m not one of those fellows who get all restless and depressed if things aren’t happening to them all the time. You can’t make it too placid for me. Give me regular meals, a good show with decent music every now and then, and one or two pals to totter round with, and I ask no more…”


	5. Permission to Land Granted

Everybody knew about the importance of first impressions. They emphasized on it when preparing for a job interview, when making friends and socializing, when speaking to a person of authority, when trying to form relationships. First impressions were unchangeable. You could not go back in time and alter the first thought that popped into someone else’s mind the first few seconds that they interacted with you for the first time. You only got one chance to make a good impression, so you better not waste it.

Of course, those of a benevolent and reasonable nature admitted that first impressions were not always right, and that you should have an open mind to try and see deeper into people even if the first impression you got of them was not agreeable. Emphasis on _benevolent_ and _reasonable_.

Mike didn’t know much about Jessica’s father, but he would not put a lot of money on the man having much of those characteristics.

It should be noted that the first impression that said man had gotten of Mike was of him in the hospital, looking like he’d just gotten out with a fight against a wild boar and a blender at the same time; all while Jessica was standing there looking like she’d been through hell herself. And none of them had been very coherent either, so helpful explanations had not been available to Mr. Lowell as soon as he’d probably have preferred.

That did not make for the best first impression.

But, under no circumstances would Mike Munroe ever admit that his girlfriend’s father scared him.

Duncan Lowell was older than Mike’s parents. He was also older than his own wife by over ten years. He was forty when Jessica was born, and either the later than usual paternity or the stress of his job (or both) had taken their toll on him. He was almost completely bald, with wrinkles lining his face as deep as crevices in a wax sculpture. Despite this, the man was still in relatively fit shape, and his pale blue eyes denoted a sharp intelligence and a cold ferocity that could make the toughest guy recoil in fear if the older man was aggravated.

And right now, his girlfriend’s father was smiling at him like your typical affable next-door neighbour.

That smile gave Mike the chills.

“Michael,” the man said with the mellowest voice “why don’t you help me out with the plants while the girls do their thing? It’ll be _fun_.”

It wasn’t a question and they both knew it.

He sent a silent plea request to Jessica, who was sorting through some catalogues with her mother in the living room, but she just rolled her eyes at him and jerked her head impatiently in her dad’s direction, telling Mike silently to suck it up and follow the man.

Jessica’s parents lived in an apartment. It was spacious enough, but it still wasn’t the same as a two story house in the suburbs. To make up for the lack of a real garden, Mr. Lowell had set up a display of potted plants in the closed balcony. The place was sheltered from the outside with plexiglass panels so the plants wouldn’t freeze in the winter and they could still open the windows in the warmer months. The small space was jam-packed with potted plants so there was barely enough room left for a small garden table and a couple of plastic chairs. It was slightly humid and hot in there, like the inside of a greenhouse. Mike supposed that was the intention.

Duncan grabbed a small watering can from the tiled floor and started tending to a gardener with a row of aromatic herbs. It looked like basil, maybe sage. Mike knew jack shit about cooking herbs anyway.

“Some of these flowers need more care than others” the man said, pouring a thin dribble of water. “They’re just like people. Some are resilient, capable of surviving in harsh conditions. Others are more delicate, they need to be cherished and sheltered from the elements.”

Mike didn’t even try to guess what the guy was getting at. “So, um, do you want me to help you with the watering?” He asked.

Duncan turned to look at him and pointed to a container with thick pale pink blossoms. “Yes, you can start with the peonies over there.”

Mike took the watering can from the man and got to work. Duncan rummaged through the pot of herbs, removing rotten leaves and uprooting the plants that had dried up completely and were beyond saving.

“This is nice, isn’t it?” The older man said, throwing a shrivelled flower into a bucket at his feet. “The two of us doing something together. You’re the first boyfriend that Jessica has brought home, did you know that? And I don’t let just anyone touch my peonies.”

Was Mike being tested? He was totally being tested. Mr. Lowell hadn’t thrown him off the window yet, so he supposed he was doing fine so far.

“Are you familiar with the concept of civil responsibility, Michael?”

The question caught him completely off guard. He stopped watering peonies for a moment to think ‘what the fuck?’ and then he tried to think of the answer to that question.

“Yes. It’s the binding force that holds every citizen accountable for the damages or injuries they may cause others. It’s the implicit responsibility we all have to respect each other and to be aware of the needs of our fellow citizens.” Mike believed he had given a mostly correct answer.

Duncan smiled widely. “Oh, so you do pay attention in class after all! Nice, nice.” He said, resuming his gardening task. “You see, my job entails a huge deal of responsibility. I have to give it my full attention from the moment I walk through the door. The second I set a foot in the control tower, I stop being a father and a husband and I become solely an air traffic controller. The whole world apart from the immediacy of the airport disappears. Why? Because one single mistake can have catastrophic consequences. One moment of distraction, one wrong indication given to a pilot, and you have two planes full of passengers crashing into each other.”

Mike stopped doing what he was doing and just watched Duncan. The man was calmly tending to his damn potted plants as he talked about planes crashing like he was discussing the weather.

“That’s how society works.” Duncan continued. “There are different layers of responsibility. Some are explicitly stated, like for example, the responsibility stated in my profession’s deontological code to not fuck up and let planes crash on the runway. And others are just kind of implied, like they’re an unspoken social contract that they never teach you in school but that any moron with two brain cells can figure out when the situation calls for it.”

Jessica’s father regarded Mike like he was trying to figure him out.

“Let me ask you a hypothetical question, Michael. Would you say it’s an _implicit responsibility_ to look after your girlfriend and ensure that she’s safe during a dangerous situation, even if said situation is unexpected and your girlfriend and you have only been a couple for a short time, so deep bonds haven’t formed yet?”

Mike didn’t know anyone could look so threatening while holding a pot of lavender flowers.

“Mr. Lowell, I don’t know what impression you have of me, but I can assure you that I have only the best intentions with-”

“I don’t want your excuses. Answer the godamn question.”

Mike blinked. “ _Yes_. Yes, it’s a clear duty to do all of that.”

“So we do agree that your behaviour with my daughter during that night that shall not be named wasn’t exactly up to par, was it?”

There was a tense pause in which both men stared at each other, the younger one with something akin to fear and the older one with an unclear intensity in his eyes.

“No. It wasn’t.” Mike whispered, casting his eyes down to the floor. “I tried to save her, I swear I tried, but I wasn’t fast enough.”

Mike stood there and waited for what was to come. He truly expected to get yelled at, at the very least.

“I believe you.” Duncan said finally. Mike looked up and saw that the man was rummaging through the plants again. “When we brought Jessica home from the hospital, she kept saying that you went back for her. Whatever that means. I... I don’t know what happened that night, but I can tell that whatever it was, it could have ended infinitely _worse_. I mean, judging by the state you and your friends were in, it doesn’t take a genius to figure that out. I'm not an idiot, I'm well aware that my daughter might not have returned at all. That’s the thought that keeps me up at night. But I was taught to count my blessings, and that’s what I'm doing.” Duncan set down a bonsai on the table and his voice dropped to a low hiss. “ _But damn if I don’t want to break somebody’s face for it._ ”

So that was it. Jessica’s father was one of those people who channelled their feelings of fear and confusion into anger. But there was essentially nobody left to blame for what had happened in Blackwood Mountain, so the man didn’t have anyone to release all that anger on. He could do nothing except keep it simmering inside and turn into frustration. Mike just hoped that Duncan didn’t suddenly decide to use him as a substitute outlet for his anger.

“And what do we do now?” He asked the older man. If he was going to get punched in the face, better get it over with quickly. He didn’t have the whole day.

“Well, I believe Nora has some lemon tartlets in the oven. We should go check on them before they burn to a crisp.”

“...What?”

The look of incredulity that Mike gave Jessica’s father must have been quite comical, because he felt like his eyes were about to pop out of their sockets for a moment. Duncan ignored him and walked back inside the apartment, leaving Mike standing in an overheated terrace and holding a watering can, surrounded by potted rhododendrons.

Bewildered, he went inside. Jess and her mother were still sitting on the couch, talking. Duncan was nowhere to be seen.

“See, mom, if we move that shelf to the corner, you can put a mirror on that wall and the room won’t feel so cramped.” Jess was saying.

“But what do we do with the cuckoo clock then?”

“Frankly, you should throw it off the rooftop.”

“Jessica!”

“But mom, it’s hideous! And it hasn’t even worked for years!”

“We can’t just throw the clock away, it was a present from aunt Patty!”

“Exactly.” The girl turned her attention to Mike. “Sweetie, you agree with me that we should get rid of the clock, don’t you?”

“Uh...”

He was saved from answering by Duncan’s voice suddenly coming from the kitchen. “Nora, the tartlets!”

“Oh, for the love of...” Jessica’s mother discarded the furniture catalogue on the coffee table and stood. “I'm coming! Don’t touch anything!”

Mike took the seat that Nora had vacated and made sure that Jessica’s parents were both out of sight. “Jess, what the fuck was that?” He hissed.

“Baby, what are you talking about?” She said distractedly, leafing through the catalogues.

“Your dad just pulled a whole exercise on psychological warfare on me! What the hell’s wrong with him?”

Jessica rolled her eyes at him. “Don’t be ridiculous. He likes to mess with people’s heads a bit, but he’s harmless.”

“Harmless? You call The Tulip Tudeski harmless?”

“I don’t know who that is.” She gave him a peck on the lips and smirked. “Aww, don’t be so pouty. I think he likes you. At least as much as my dad can like anyone, he’s not exactly a people person.”

“You don’t say.”

 

* * *

 

Chris rang the doorbell to Ashley’s house and waited for the door to open. They were going to spend the day together in Chris’ house. To be fair, they were basically going to babysit Aaron the rest of the day so Chris’ parents could spend a night out for once. That could be hardly considered great ‘date’ plans for a Saturday evening. But Ashley had looked elated at the idea. He wondered when they were going to start having ‘normal’ dates, like going clubbing or ice skating. Stuff normal couples did. Chris knew why they didn’t do those things though. They weren’t fond of being out in big crowds or loud places. And Ashley hated clubs even before Blackwood. It seemed like the only thing they wanted to do when they were together was stay inside and hug. That was all they needed to be happy for the time being, so he tried not to think too much about it.

He realized after a while that nobody had come to open the door. He tried the doorbell again and listened closely, but he didn’t hear the characteristic shrill sound of the bell inside the house. Frowning, he raised a hand and knocked twice.

Ashley’s mother opened the door. She was wearing office clothes and a cigarette was hanging from her lips.

“Oh hello, Christopher” she greeted him, taking a drag from her cigarette.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Sherman” Chris said amiably. “I'm here for Ashley.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” She turned around, leaving the door open for him. Chris followed down the hall to the living room. “Sorry about the doorbell. Maybe I should leave a note until I get someone to fix it, but we rarely get any visits anyway.”

There were papers scattered and a pack of cigarettes on the coffee table. She pointed vaguely to the couch. “Make yourself at home. Ash will come down in a minute.” Charlotte sat down on the armchair, pen in hand, and proceeded to review the documents on the coffee table, which Chris guessed she had been doing before he arrived.  “Sorry I'm not more hospitable, but I have to leave for work in an hour and I need to finish this first.” Her eyes trailed down a page quickly and she crossed out an entire paragraph rather angrily. “Nine years working in the same department and idiots still can’t write a planning application correctly.” She grumbled around her cigarette.

Ashley had inherited Charlotte’s wide eyes, squirrel cheeks, and tawny brown hair. But the cute button nose that the daughter possessed was absent from the mother’s face. Chris imagined that particular genetic feature came from the paternal side.

“Um, do you need help with anything, Mrs. S?”

“No, thank you.” The woman took the cigarette pack and offered it to Chris. “Want one?”

“I don’t smoke.”

“Good boy.” She said, blowing a thin trail of smoke straight to the ceiling. “God, I don’t know what’s taking Ashley so long. That girl lives in another world half of the time. Sometimes I have to yell at her to make her come down from the clouds and pay attention to me. She gets that from her dad, you know? He was a daydreamer too. Is. Whatever. He was always talking about his great plans and ideas, but never did anything productive. The bastard stayed exactly six months after Ashley was born before running for the hills.”

Talk about an unexpected turn of conversation. Chris was wishing he had accepted that stupid cigarette.

Still, that was the most he’d heard about Ashley’s father in, well, ever.

“Where is he now? I mean, if you don’t mind me asking.”

Charlotte shrugged. “Don’t know, don’t care. Last I heard of him, he’d been arrested in Idaho for something related to some lottery scam. He called me to ask for bail money. I told him to go fuck himself. That was... seven or eight years ago.”

Chris didn’t know what the appropriate thing to say was in that kind of situation, but luckily for him Ashley chose that exact moment to come down the stairs.

“Mom, have you seen my green scarf...? Oh, hi Chris!” Her whole face lit up when she saw him. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“The doorbell’s broken” Her mother said, busy with her papers.

“Again?”

“Geez, Ashley, I’ll see if I can get Radley to fix it on Monday, okay? Now go have fun and let me work.”

“Okay, mom. See you later.” Ashley took Chris’ hand and led him outside. Before they walked out, however, she turned around and shouted: “Wait, who’s Radley?”

“You’re running late, honey!” Her mother shouted back from the living room. “It’s rude to keep people waiting!”

 

When they were in the car, Ashley rolled down the passenger window a crack. She closed her eyes as the wind blew on her face softly and made her bangs dance over her eyes. “My mom wouldn’t let me come until I assured her that you’d be driving. She thinks I'm going to crash the car or something.” She told him.

“Surely it’s not that bad.”

“Well, she kinda has a point. I _am_ a crap driver.”

“No, you just need practice, just like everything else.” Chris gave her a sideways glance for a moment before setting his eyes on the road again. “Your mother told me about your dad.”

He could sense Ashley getting tense in her seat even if he wasn’t looking at her. “What did she say?”

“Not much. Just that he left when you were a baby and that she’s not very fond of him.”

“That’s like saying that the NSA isn’t very fond of ISIS” She scoffed. “Look, I just don’t like to talk about my dad because I don’t consider him part of my life. I’ve never even met him. To me he’s just... a name on a birth certificate. I never mention him because when I do, people start making all these assumptions about me, like I must have daddy issues or abandonment issues or that kind of bullshit.”

Chris put his hand on her knee and squeezed. “Hey. You know I don’t think any of that, right?”

She smiled at him and put her hand on top of his. “Yeah. You’re the best. No, seriously, you’re the best.”

Chris kept their fingers interlaced until he had no choice but to remove his hand to change gears. Damn manual transmission.

 

* * *

 

The lemon tartlets didn’t get burnt after all, and the four of them got to enjoy them over a cup of coffee in the dining table. Jessica’s father had a disconcerting half-smirk plastered on his face the whole time, and he wouldn’t stop staring at Mike, even when Jess or Nora talked to him. Mike was looking into the depths of his coffee mug like maybe he could get swallowed by it if he concentrated hard enough.

Duncan reached for the sugar bowl but Jessica snatched it away before her father could grab it. “No, dad! You can’t have white sugar with your coffee! Use brown sugar or honey instead.”

“Um, may I ask why?”

“Do you have any idea of how bad refined sugar is for you? During the refining process, they remove all the important nutrients from it and leave a toxic powder that will destroy your teeth and intestines.”

“Uh-huh. What is the source of this important piece of information?”

“Sam told me about it.”

“Sam? Is that your friend the tree hugger?”

Jessica rolled her eyes. “Yes, dad, she’s my friend the tree hugger. But seriously though, white sugar is the worst.”

Duncan chuckled. “Well, I'm not going to argue with a future dental care professional about sugar.” He turned to his wife. “Pass me the honey, hon.”

“Jesus, Duncan” Nora rolled her eyes and shoved the honey jar his way. It slid across the table easily and the man caught it like it was a hockey disk.

At some point during their mid-afternoon refreshment, Jessica excused herself to go to the bathroom. Shortly after, her mother had to leave the room as well to answer the phone. Mike found himself alone again with fearsome-in-law. He’d hardly touched his coffee.

“Well, well...” the older man said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “I have to say that I got you wrong at first, young man.”

Mike gave him a cautious glance. “You did?”

Duncan nodded, still staring at him with that intensity. “You look like someone who’s always used his charm to get what you want. I mean, look at you. But there’s something else about you. Something’s humbled you down. And you’re still getting used to it. I’ve seen it before in my job. Sometimes young pilots get a bit too full of themselves, they think they have to prove to everyone how amazing and skilled they are. Until they get their first close call.”

Mike ducked his head down and moved around the crumbs in his plate. “I got many close calls that night in the mountains. Too many. Enough for a lifetime.”

Jessica’s father didn’t say anything for a while. The silence in the dining room would have been filled by the tick-tock of the cuckoo clock on the wall, if it had worked.

“One of my biggest worries used to be that one day Jessica would come home pregnant.” Duncan said in a low voice. “Or something worse. I felt like an asshole for having thoughts like that, but I couldn’t help it. She wanted to grow up way too fast for my liking.” When Mike looked up, the man’s eyes were full of regret. “I know it’s partly my fault, I wasn’t there as much as I should have. But I know my daughter, and I know deep down she’s still that naive little girl who believed you when you told her that her dead goldfish was just sleeping.”

Mike nodded. He’d seen glimpses of Jessica’s true innocent nature back in the mountains, hidden beneath the layers of charisma and sex appeal. He didn’t know how he hadn’t seen it before. He hadn’t been paying attention, he only saw what he had wanted to see. “She deserves the best.”

“You bet your ass she does.” Duncan agreed. “I know every parent says that their child is special, but what else can I do?”

_What else can I do_. Mike reflected on those words for a while even after Jess and her mother came back to the dining room and resumed their conversation as if nothing had happened.

 

* * *

 

“Vincent! We’re going to be late!”

“I can’t find my tie!”

“It’s on your office chair, doofus!” Shannon Phillips turned to her oldest son as she put on her black heels. “We’ll be back before midnight, I hope. Aaron can’t watch TV until he finishes his homework, and his bedtime is 10.30.”

Chris raised an eyebrow. “Come on mom, it’s a Saturday, surely you can give him a bit more leeway.”

“I let him stay up that late precisely because it’s Saturday, Chris” his mother sassed him. “There’s some leftovers in the fridge for dinner. I think they’ll be enough for the three of you, but if you’re still hungry, I left some money in the second drawer of my dresser. Um... I think that’s all.”

“We’ll be fine, mom. Relax and enjoy your dinner.”

His father came down the stairs then, strolling casually with his hands in his pockets. “All this ‘dress code’ nonsense is for poseurs. I bet the food isn’t worth what they’ll charge us.” The man grumbled.

“Oh, and whose idea was it to make a reservation in a jazz club?” Shannon replied, putting on her coat. She kissed Chris on the cheek. “Behave yourselves. Love you!”

“Love you, mom” Chris said back, watching his parents disappear through the door.

He went to the kitchen, where his brother and Ashley were. They were sitting on opposite ends of the kitchen table, Aaron with his school homework laid in front of him, and Ashley engrossed in a college textbook she had brought with her. That was a picture that Chris would frame and hang on his wall if he could. He leaned on the doorframe and just watched them for a moment.

“What is your book about?” Aaron asked Ashley.

“Anthropology.” She said.

The kid wrinkled his nose in confusion. “What’s that?”

“It’s the science that studies... well, the human race, basically. It has different branches, but it’s pretty much about studying everything about humans.”

“So like zoologists for people?”

She chuckled. “Yes, something like that.”

“So, are you like, my brother’s girlfriend now?” Aaron asked out of the blue.

Ashley gave Chris a sideways glance before answering. “Yes, you could say that.”

“Oh, okay. Cool.” The boy said. He noticed his older brother at the door and pouted. “ _Chriiis_ , please, help me with my math homework. It’s horrible!”

Chris took a seat beside him. “Don’t despair, little bro, your nerdy hero is here to save the day. What’s the problem?”

“My school just started teaching common core math, that’s the problem.”

“What’s common core?” Ashley asked.

“I’ve heard it’s a new whole system of teaching mathematics that they’ve been implementing over the last couple years” Chris answered, taking a look at his brother’s notepad.

“I hate it!” Aaron protested. “It doesn’t make any damn sense! I used to be good at math, now I suck!”

Chris read the problems in the textbook. He read them slowly and carefully. Now, Chris liked to think that he was a rather intelligent guy. People complimented him on his smarts without prompting after all, and surely not all of them meant it in a sarcastic way, or so he hoped. He had gotten an A in linear algebra the last semester, for God’s sake. Surely a _fifth grade_ math problem would be no challenge for him.

Aaron was right. That thing made no damn sense.

Ashley peered at the book over his shoulder. “What’s your professional opinion, Doctor Einstein?”

Chris gave her a terrified look and just mouthed _‘WHAT. THE. FUCK. IS. THIS.’_

 

There was nothing interesting on TV and oddly enough, Aaron didn’t feel like watching _National Treasure_ or _Thor_ for the hundredth time, so the three of them spent the rest of the evening playing Monopoly. Neither Chris nor Ashley were showing much interest in taking over the board’s monetary empire, so that gave Aaron plenty of advantage to completely run them over.

“Hah! Looks like it’s another long prison sentence for you! Suck it, Chris!” the little boy shouted enthusiastically.

Chris sighed and moved his wheelbarrow token to the jail square. “I'm spending so much time in there, I think I should get a gang tattoo.” He preferred the automobile, but they had lost half the tokens over the years. Ashley was the Scottish terrier and Aaron was the battleship. The top hat was just silly. Nobody wanted to be the iron.

Ashley put a hand on her mouth to stifle a yawn. “This game is kinda taking too long, isn’t it? Aaron should have driven us into bankruptcy by now.”

“Hey, I'm not a crazy investor. I have to distribute my assets sensibly.” The kid said smugly.

“Glad to know you’re learning fancy words in school.” His older brother commented.

“Yeah, Ms. Belcher gives us extra points for using ‘fancy words’ in our essays, so I use them like all the time. Even when I'm not sure what they mean.”

Chris shook his head and nudged Ashley playfully. “Well, Ash, just be glad there’s three of us to play. It has been proven that a game of Monopoly between only two players can never end.”

“Really?”

“Yes, there’s even like a mathematical demonstration. Seriously, some guys made a statistical study and published it. It’s on the internet.”

Ashley cackled. “How did you even happen to come across a mathematical study on Monopoly?”

“I don’t remember. I must have been really bored.”

“That’s so weird.” Aaron frowned. “When I'm bored, I call my friend Cody Turner and we play Mario Kart or we throw balls in the backyard or something.” He gasped, like he’d just remembered something really important. “Wait, I have to show you something! Don’t move!”

The boy dashed through the door and they heard him running up the stairs like his life depended on it. Ashley raised her eyebrows.

“Looks like it’s a real emergency.”

“Everything’s always an emergency for him” Chris said.

Aaron came back shortly after with a small bouquet of purple wildflowers in his hand. The blossoms were radial with long thin petals, like small cobalt asterisks, and the stems still had some dirt on them. They looked a bit squashed, like he’d had them inside his backpack the whole day and had forgotten to take them out.

“What are those?” Ashley asked.

"They're camas flowers.” Aaron said. “There's a bunch of them growing in an empty field behind my school, although they usually don't bloom so early. Oh and did you know you can eat the bulbs? My teacher says the Indians used to bake them and make soup with them and stuff."

Ashley nodded and brushed the small bluish-purple petals. "That's very interesting. Did you pick them for your mom?”

Aaron blushed a little. "Uhh... actually, they're for you."

Ashley blinked, perplexed. “For me?”

“Yeah, you know, I saw them yesterday when I was waiting for dad to pick me up from school and I thought… you might… like them. They’re not much, but… well, I just thought you might want to put them in your room or something.”

Chris was just as baffled as her. He watched her expectantly, waiting for her reaction. She took the flowers gingerly and smiled. “That’s really sweet, Aaron. Thank you.” She gave the kid a kiss on the cheek. He made a big act of grimacing at it, but Chris knew better.

“Take note, Chris, your brother got me flowers before you did” she teased. “Watch out, looks like you have some serious competition here.”

Chris rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I might have to challenge him to a pistol duel if he keeps making advances on you.” He said, ruffling his brother’s hair playfully. Aaron swatted his hands away.

 

Later that evening, when they were having microwaved meatloaf and mashed potatoes for dinner, Chris waited until Ashley was in the bathroom to address the thought that had been nagging his head.

“So… camas flowers, huh?”

Aaron shrugged. “There’s a buttload of them behind the school. Like, they’re literally everywhere.”

“Yes, but it’s interesting that you automatically thought of Ashley when you saw them.” The kid shrugged again, not looking up from his plate. Chris noticed that he was making a cat face with his peas. “No, really, it was very kind. What gave you the idea?”

Aaron put a big piece of meatloaf in his mouth and chewed noisily for a while. When he had swallowed it, he answered.

“Well, Ashley always looks kind of sad. And mom says you have to be… what was the word?” He paused for a moment, trying to remember. “Attentive! That was the word. Mom says you have to be attentive with people when they’re sad, like being extra nice to them and stuff. Like when Ms. Temple had a miscarriage in October and everyone in my class made cards for her to cheer her up.”

Chris stared at his younger brother for a while, his mouth agape. He felt like he’d just been given some profound life lesson, but he wasn’t sure what it was.

“Do you know what a miscarriage is?” He stuttered finally.

Aaron gave him an unimpressed look. “I’m almost eleven, I’m not stupid.”

“Oh, I’ve met your friend Abby Jenkins. I think she disagrees with you on that.”

Aaron threw a piece of carrot at him. Chris dodged it, laughing.

 

* * *

 

Jessica looked at herself in the entrance mirror. It was one of those rare occasions when she was wearing her hair down and the long golden locks cascaded over her back and shoulders. She tugged at the collar of her blouse a little, revealing the beginning of a long scar just below her collarbone. She had been dressing more modestly lately, and it wasn’t just because of the cold. She examined the scar for a long time, her eyes betraying no emotion. Frustrated, she put the blouse in place and run her hands through her hair so it covered her neck and part of her cleavage as well.

“You know, there’s plastic surgery for that.” A voice said softly behind her. She looked up and saw her father’s reflection in the mirror, looking at her with tenderness. “Scar removal surgery, I mean. I didn’t mention it before because I know it’s a sensitive subject for you and I wasn’t sure if it was the right time. But if you want, we could look into it.”

Jess turned around and crossed her arms. “Would our insurance cover it?” She asked doubtfully.

He waved a hand as if to dismiss her question. “You let me worry about that.”

She gave him a small smile. For a moment it looked like she was going to say something else, but she didn’t.

“Oh, come here” Her father said, his arms wide open.

Jessica let herself be enveloped in a fatherly hug. It was in moments like these when she let her guard down and dropped the whole confident act she kept in everyday. It was liberating. Each day she felt growing more removed from the ‘sexy babe’ persona she had adopted for so long. It was getting exhausting to keep it up anymore. And after removing the layers, what was left underneath was someone she didn’t recognize. Maybe that had been her true self all along, hiding under the brattiness and the attitude, waiting for her moment to rise from the ashes? Or maybe she was a completely different person altogether? Jessica didn’t know, but she would have to find out on her own.

“Why the sudden burst of affection?” She asked.

Her father made a sound of mild indignation. “What, do I need a reason to hug my daughter?”

Jess giggled and hugged him back.

 

Mike and Jess left shortly after. Mike was carrying a plastic container with leftover lemon tarts that her mother had insisted they took with them. Jessica had her hands wrapped around his bicep as they descended the several flights of stairs in the apartment building. She still couldn’t bear to be inside elevators.

“Do you know why I wanted my mom to throw away that cuckoo clock?” She asked Mike.

“Because your aunt Patty is a bitch?”

Jessica snorted. “Well, yes, she is, but that’s not the reason.” Her smile faded and she got a reflective look in her eyes. “When we were in that cabin, and that... thing dragged me away... I remember there was a cuckoo clock on the wall in the cabin. It was dark and it wasn’t important, but just before the thing dragged me out of the window, I remember the last thing I saw was that clock on the wall. I had forgotten about it until I came here tonight and saw my parent’s stupid clock in the dining room. They’re almost identical.”

Mike stopped in the middle of the hall and looked at her intently. “Jessica...”

“I don’t know why I'm remembering pointless small details like that while most of the night is still a blur, but that’s how it is.” She tried to explain. “I’ll be happy if I don’t have to look at another one of those damn gadgets ever again.”

“Jess” He left the tartlets on the floor and took her face between his hands gently. “Hey. It’s okay. I’ll fucking smash to pieces every cuckoo clock in this city if that makes you happy.”

“Aw, you big talking man” she cooed.

And then they kissed like the world was going to end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just say OH THANK GOD FINALLY! I’ve literally struggled with this chapter for almost three weeks.
> 
> A couple random thoughts: in my head, Jessica’s father looks like J.K. Simmons and Ashley’s mother looks like Toni Collette.  
> No, I don’t remember any cuckoo clock in the cabin were Mike and Jess got ambushed by the wendigo, I made that up. Although in my opinion, there should have been one.  
> And yes, that study on Monopoly actually exists: http://www.informs-sim.org/wsc09papers/036.pdf


	6. Chasing the snakes out of the island

Ashley paced up and down the wall, unable to stand still. She looked at the plaque on the door in front of her for the hundredth time, as if she could will time to run faster and the door to finally open.

_LYLA DURAND, Ph.D_

_CULTURAL ANTHROPOLOGY_

She knew she had no reason to worry. Her grades were doing fine and she hadn’t forgotten to hand in any papers. It was probably just a routine meeting that her professor arranged to keep track on all of her students. That was what Ashley kept telling herself. Still, when she had received an email from her professor asking her to meet in her office on Friday at 12.45 p.m., she had almost had a heart attack. She couldn’t help it, the first thoughts that had popped into her mind were nasty things like _you’re so dumb, your last paper was terrible and you’re going to be put on probation_ and _they found out what kind of person you really are, you don’t deserve to be in this college, they’re going to expel you_. Ashley had chased those thoughts away by thinking of something else. Anything else. The grocery list her mother had left on the fridge door that morning. How many people with band tees she had seen on campus that day. That article she had read about the dumbest laws in their state.

Ashley had been at the spot ten minutes early. There was another student inside the office when she arrived. She’d caught a glimpse of him entering and closing the door just as she approached from the end of the hallway. Professor Durand was very efficient when managing her time and very egalitarian with all of her students. Barring justifiable exceptions, meetings at her office always lasted exactly fifteen minutes, no more, no less.

As expected, the door opened at 12.45 sharply. A boy from her class acknowledged Ashley with a short nod as he brushed past her before leaving.

“Good afternoon, Ashley” Professor Durand greeted her. The woman was looking at her computer screen when she walked in, typing fast.

“Good afternoon, Professor” Ashley said, sitting down and trying to make herself as small as possible.

Ms. Durand took her eyes away from the screen and turned the monitor slightly so it was facing the other way and it wouldn’t distract her. She rested her hands on the desk. “Well, Ashley, you’re probably wondering why I wanted to meet with you today.”

Ashley nodded. She fixed her eyes on one of the posters on the wall for a moment. Three Buddhist monks walking with their backs to the camera, the hive-like towers of the temple of Angkor Wat looming far off in the background. It was a nice photo, taken at sunset so the stones of the temple glowed with a rusty golden hue.

The motion of her professor dropping a pile of folders on the desk brought Ashley back to the present. She took her gaze back to her professor, who was looking at her right in the eye. Ms Durand was a woman in her late thirties with a very no-nonsense demeanor and an ardent passion for her academic field. She was, as they said, ‘tough, but fair’.

“Let’s start by saying that your academic performance in my class is good. Very good, actually.” Durand reassured her, going through the folders. “But I'm a bit concerned about your lack of participation lately. You seemed much more engaged at the beginning of the semester. And while at first glance there does not seem to be a problem there, I can’t help but notice that your attitude towards my class seems... detached. Ashley,” the woman leaned forward slightly and Ashley felt herself compelled to keep eye contact with her “are you feeling less motivated about your studies? Perhaps you’re having regrets about your course choice?”

 “No, no... nothing like that.” Ashley stuttered. “I hadn’t realized that my level of participation in class had decreased. I'm... sorry if you got the impression that I was losing interest in your class, but I can assure you it has not.”

She made sure to be very respectful but at the same time she purposefully said as little as possible. The last thing she wanted was to let some detail slip and have the conversation derail into uncomfortable territory.

“But you seemed like such a promising student barely two months ago.” Durand insisted, unrelenting. “What’s changed, Ashley?”

She knew that the woman would not leave her alone until she gave her an answer, so she might as well tell the truth. Part of it, at least.

“I'm just dealing with a lot of personal issues. I’ll get right back to where I was two months ago... eventually. I hope.” Her voice was barely a whisper at the end of the sentence.

Professor Durand gave her a strange look, like she was trying to figure her out. The woman put both hands on the table, palms down, and tapped a finger on the wooden surface. “Let me ask you a personal question, Ashley. Why did you choose to major in anthropology?”

Ashley’s eyes darted all over the room, not knowing what to say to that. Before she could stammer out a response, her teacher continued: “I mean, it’s not exactly the most popular field in high school counselling presentations. Most people don’t even know it exists until they’ve already been in college for some time. What drew you into it?”

If Ashley concentrated hard enough, she could almost imagine the bright orange robes of the monks flapping in the wind. Could almost hear the wildlife sounds of the Cambodian rainforest and feel the hot humid air on her skin...

She snapped out of her brief daydreaming. Ms. Durand was still waiting for an answer.

“I just wanted to understand why people do the things they do. What gives us our virtues and our flaws. Things like compassion or callousness or indifference. Where do they come from? Are they universal?” She paused, mulling over her next words. “Does evil exist?”

After Beth and Hannah had disappeared, Ashley had thrown herself into books to drown her guilt, hoping to find consolation in the words of long-dead authors. Her inquisitiveness had slowly dragged her into the field of group dynamics. Terms like ‘peer pressure’ and ‘diffusion of responsibility’ had sounded like buzzwords back then, but she still had a lot of questions. She had hoped to find answers in college.

Professor Durand leaned back on the swivel chair, hands interlaced and elbows over the armrests. She considered Ashley’s words for a moment and then she cleared her throat.

“I understand you’re quite the aspiring writer, Ashley” she said. “I read the short story you submitted to the college newspaper. You have potential.”

Ashley shrugged and looked down. She was not used to receiving praise for her work.

“Usually, most people who desire to become writers simply major in English.” The older woman continued. “To master the language and learn from the classics, among other things.”

Ashley shook her head. “My high school counsellor actually discouraged me from majoring in English. I mean, not openly, but she did warn me that I might get sick of it. Of analyzing and criticizing every work of writing to death until I hated it. Apparently that’s a thing that happens sometimes. She told me that studying a degree in any other field could give me more perspective. And I guess I wanted to understand the human soul above all else. I mean, the driving force of any work of writing are the characters, right? The human question. So choosing anthropology seemed like the natural thing to do.”

Durand raised her eyebrows for a second. “Well, that’s an honest answer if I ever heard one.” She closed the folder in front of her and sighed. “Look, Ashley, in this field, book research can only get you so far. The cornerstone of anthropology is human interaction. The formation of kinship relationships.” She clutched her fists together firmly to emphasize her point. “You are only hindering your own growth by isolating yourself. Ashley, you need to open up.”

“I know. I'm trying.”

Only upon saying those words did Ashley realize how true they were.

Her professor gave her a look that was almost sad, but it was hard to tell. The woman glanced at the clock on the wall. Their fifteen minutes were over. “Just think about it, Ashley. Right now you might feel like you have nothing to contribute with to discussions, but I’ve graded your papers and you do know the material. If you just try to participate a bit, you might surprise yourself.” 

* * *

 

Ashley was going to have lunch with Sam and Chris after her meeting. She sat down on one of the benches outside the Fine Arts building while she waited for them. It was their usual meeting point since it was right in the middle of the campus. It wasn’t warm enough for a picnic on the grass yet, but the sun was shining for the first time in weeks and it was nice outside.

While she waited for Sam, Ashley picked up her copy of Ian McEwan’s _Atonement_. She had read it before, but in a funny way that novel seemed more relevant now than ever. She left the handmade bookmark on the bench beside her. It was a piece of card paper with pressed blue flowers in it, wrapped tightly in adhesive plastic. Ashley had figured that Aaron’s flowers would not last long in a glass of water and she thought it would be a shame to let them go to waste. Fortunately she still remembered a thing or two from Arts  & Crafts.

While in the middle of a painstakingly detailed description of a fountain, she felt a hand tap on her shoulder. She turned her head sideways and found Sam smiling at her. “I called you twice from the other side of the road, you didn’t hear me.”

“Sorry. I must have tuned you out for a moment.”

“Yeah, you tend to do that.” Sam sat down on the bench next to her and picked up the bookmark. She examined it, her fingers tracing the laminated dry flowers. “ _Camassia quamash_ ” she mumbled.

“How do you know that?” Ashley asked.

“I went to a seminary on Botany last semester. ‘Endemic Flora of the Pacific Northwest and Strategies for its Conservation’, or something like that.”

“They were a gift.” Ashley said casually. It felt a bit like boasting. She’d never had much to boast about. Back in High School, she’d watch from afar the other girls bragging about the presents their boyfriends got them with a mix of envy and fascination. Those flowers she had used to make a bookmark were not the same thing of course. They were a random act of kindness from someone who was little more than an acquaintance and didn’t owe her anything. That only made them more special, though. Like they represented the purity and innocence that Ashley felt she had forever lost.

Sam gave her a knowing smile and nudged her. “A gift from Chris, eh?”

Ashley chuckled. “Not exactly. From his brother.”

Her friend raised an eyebrow. “His ten year old brother?”

“Yep. I think he’s quite the precocious child.”

“Woah, a ladies’ man in the making. Imagine him in ten years.” Sam produced a sealed plastic container from her bag and put it on her lap. A rich spicy smell of vegetable soup filled the stale cold air when she opened it. “Eh, I hope Chris doesn’t mind me not waiting for him, but I'm starving.” She said, stirring the soup with a small plastic spoon.

“What are you having?” Ashley asked, looking down at her own lunchbox which contained some unglamorous tuna pasta salad and a couple plums.

“Quinoa soup. I found the recipe on a vegan cooking blog and wanted to try it. Quinoa seeds are a bit tricky to boil, but I was getting tired of eating rice and beans all day.”

“You are a vegan walking cliché” Ashley joked. Sam huffed and made a sound of absolute delight when eating her soup to spite her. It looked positively delicious, to be honest. It also looked like a nice way to stay warm, but Ashley didn’t dare carrying soup inside her bag. She would be too paranoid of the container leaking all over her books. “How do you even get it to stay warm the whole day?”

“Matt lets me sneak into the football team’s break room after class to use their microwave.”

“Matt?” Ashley realized guiltily that she had not spoken to the boy in weeks. “How is he doing?”

The other girl shrugged. “He’s keeping himself busy. He told me he’s considering doing some volunteer work and he asked me about the animal shelter. I told him it’s kind of a serious commitment and very time consuming though. Maybe he should give himself some time to rest and recover before diving straight into that kind of thing, you know? He’ll have plenty of time to ‘pay back to the community’ or whatever this is for him in the future. He said he’d think about it.”

Ashley realized in that moment that Sam was like the glue that was keeping the group together. She was the one who tried to keep tabs on all of them and gave them updates on each other while they tried to cope on their own.

In that moment Chris appeared around the corner, practically sprinting towards them. He leaned on the bench, catching his breath. “Sorry I'm late. I got caught up in the computer lab.”

“Don’t worry, we started without you.” Sam said.

“Yes, I can see that.”

Chris sat down on the bench to Ashley’s left, Sam on her right. “What held you back?” Ashley asked.

“Well, we had a group project and we had to do twice the work because Darrell Costa sucks at coding. A guy in my group was like ‘his code is so bad, it hurts my eyes. It’s so bad, I think Alan Turing is spinning in his grave.’ And I was like ‘dude, I think Alan Turing would have bigger reasons to be mad about than Darrell’s bad code.’ And then my professor heard us, and he gave us a huge scolding about teamwork, and then we had to start all over again and wait for over thirty minutes for the code to compile.”

Ashley grimaced sympathetically. “Ugh. I hate group projects.”

“Doesn’t everybody?” Sam pointed out. They made sounds of agreement, chewing their food. Ashley offered her pasta salad to Chris, who took a few of bites from it and gave her one of his sandwiches in return.

 “So, do you girls know what day it is in four days?” Chris said.

Ashley thought about it for a moment and frowned. “Umm... It’s Tuesday?”

Sam lifted her head, a look of realization on her face. “It’s St. Patrick’s Day.”

Chris nodded. “I had completely forgotten about it until Jenna Guan asked me this morning in class if I was going to see the parade.”

St. Patrick’s Day was a big deal in their college. They got a day off from class, and campus population would mysteriously triplicate in size during the celebration. From the first hour in the morning there would be masses of people clad in emerald green drinking beer in the street. Literally every place in a five mile radius would be teeming with drunk young people.

In other words, a total nightmare for anyone who got anxious in big crowds.

“Oh, crap” was all Ashley said.

Chris squeezed her arm reassuringly. “You know, I was thinking it could be a good occasion for the whole group to hang out together and socialize a bit. We could just stay around for a while, see how it’s like. If we don’t like it, we can just leave at any moment.”

Ashley wasn’t exactly looking forward to it, but Professor Durand’s words were still echoing in her ears. Maybe it was the time to get out of that mental limbo she had kept herself in since Blackwood Mountain and in which she barely acquiesced the outside world. She could try start fully living the life of a normal college student again.

She gave Chris a small smile and nodded.

Sam sighed. “I’ll text the others to ask them what they think. But don’t hold your breath.”

 

Sam left shortly after lunch, and Chris and Ashley spent the rest of the day together. They basked under the faint winter sun like lizards for a while, talking about menial things. The grass was still wet from recent rains so they stayed in the bench. Eventually, Chris put his arm around her shoulders and buried his face in her neck while she read passages from her book to him, trying and failing at containing her giggles when his breath on her nape tickled her. That was a thing they seemed to be doing quite frequently these days. Ashley would read to him, and Chris would just listen and sometimes make small comments on the story or the characters. It wasn’t like Chris did not read books himself in his own spare time, but their literary tastes were very different. He mostly preferred non-fiction or just plain old sci-fi. The only books in his dorm shelf at the time other than textbooks were a collection of Isaac Asimov’s short stories and Richard Feynman’s autobiography. He was open to other genres, but with a demanding college course he simply did not have the time or the motivation to go digging into obscure literature. Frankly, it was more exciting when Ashley was the one to read those kinds of books to him. It felt like she was showing him a whole new world, as cheesy as it sounded.

In his awkward past attempts to impress her, he had tried to pretend that he was into the same stuff as her and it hadn’t worked out very well for him. There had been a time in High School when Ashley had told Chris how much she had loved _White Oleander._ So Chris had gone and read it secretly just so he could talk about it with her. What he had not expected was to find the book so… disturbing. It was beautifully written, true, but it made him so uncomfortable that he couldn't even finish it. In the end he had gotten her the original _Dune_ chronicles for Christmas so they had a book series to geek over together, and he'd never thought about White Oleander again.

“What do you think of the book so far?” Ashley asked him at some point in chapter four of _Atonement_.

Chris pressed his lips to Ashley’s neck and mumbled “Briony is a little shit.”

“Wow. What an insightful analysis.”

He huffed and slipped a hand inside her coat to tickle her belly in retaliation. She giggled and squirmed until he stopped. “Alright,” he corrected “Briony is a self-absorbed, pretentious little shit.”

“Well, she’s thirteen, you can’t expect her to have a lot of self-awareness.” She said, running her fingers through his hair. “You should have seen me in Middle School.”

“At least you didn’t try to write a play on sexual morality when you were thirteen.” He lifted his head up and looked at her. “Wait, you didn’t, did you?”

“No, but I went through an embarrassing poetry phase. Let’s just say that a mopey young teenager who’s just learned about similes and a thesaurus are a catastrophic combination.”

“Really? Now that’s something I need to see with my own eyes.”

“Don’t get your hopes up. I think my mom threw all of my old notebooks out when we repainted my room.” Chris clicked his tongue in disappointment, mumbling something about how maybe Ashley could have been the next Emily Dickinson but cruel fate thwarted her plans.

“Chris?” She asked him a few moments later.

“Mmmh?” He had closed his eyes again, resting his head on her shoulder. His legs were too long for the bench so he could not just put his head on her lap like he would like to do.

“Do you think I’m too negative?”

He opened his eyes and looked at her sternly. She wasn’t smiling anymore. Instead she had her gaze fixed on the book in her lap but without reading it, looking all kinds of insecure.

Chris frowned. “What makes you say that?”

She shrugged. “It’s just something that comes up a lot when my mom is trying to give me advice. ‘You’re too negative, you’ll never get anywhere in life with that attitude’. And maybe there’s some truth to it, you know? Maybe that’s why that night… why I acted the way I did, like some useless hysterical girl who can’t give any helpful input…”

“Ashley, stop.” He grabbed her shoulders and forced her to look at him. “Please, stop putting yourself down like that. It… it pains me to hear you say those things.”

She gave him a sad look for a moment, and then nodded once. “But Chris, I’ve discovered there are parts of myself I wasn’t aware of. And I hate what some of them could make me do… I don’t even want to think about it, but I can’t help it.”

Chris sighed. “I think you just summarized what I’ve been feeling for weeks but couldn’t put into words.” He gave her a hug. “We still have a lot of stuff to deal with, don’t we?”

“Yeah.”

“Then we’ll deal with it when it comes to it.”

 

After their small leisure session, they went to the library before the sun went down and they had to leave anyway due to the lack of natural light. In there, they would usually sit together, but each one would do their own thing. Ashley took notes from a book about cultural ecology and Chris worked on some physics problems. Then just before dinnertime, he accompanied her to the bus stop and waited with her in the cold until the bus arrived –all of twenty minutes, the city’s public transportation services were low on money and the buses were often late. They were alone in the bus stop except for one guy in a dark hoodie waiting by himself in the corner, loud music leaking through his earphones. Chris didn’t tell Ashley, but the reason that compelled him to wait with her at the stop was that he didn’t want to leave her alone with that guy in an empty street, at night. He knew he was being paranoid, the guy was probably just minding his own business, but better be safe than sorry. These days he couldn’t help but feel like there was danger in every corner. I was not a gripping paranoia that prevented him from acting like a functional adult or anything like that. It was more like a low buzzing in the back of his head, reminding him to stay alert. Situational awareness, his dad called it. Chris been practicing it subconsciously ever since Blackwood Mountain. Obviously he was no Jason Bourne, but now that he thought about it, he realized that he’d been stumbling through life mostly unaware of everything that surrounded him. To be fair, that was probably how it worked for most teenagers. But he didn’t want to be an oblivious fool anymore.

“Do you want to meet for lunch tomorrow?” He asked Ashley just as the bus was pulling over.

She gave him a sad look. “Sorry, I can’t. I have a double shift at the shop.” She worked part-time as a sales assistant in a small shoe shop. She didn’t particularly like it, but it helped her pay for things and it wasn’t an awful job, so she didn’t complain.

“Oh.” He saw the bus door rolling open out of the corner of his eye. “Well, then I guess I’ll see you on Monday. Take care.” And with a goodbye kiss, he let go of her hand and she stepped into the bus. He stood there alone under the streetlights for a while, watching the taillights of the bus disappear in the engulfing darkness, his hand still raised slightly above his waistline like it was missing something.

 

When Chris got back to his dorm later that night, his roommate was still awake. Dave was sitting on his bed, typing furiously on his laptop, an empty can of redbull and a couple of textbooks lying on the bed at his side.

“Oh, hey” Dave said, looking up from the screen fleetingly. “How was your day?”

“Good, thanks for asking. What are you working on?”

“Oh, you know, just bullshitting my way through an essay. The usual.”

Chris nodded. “Don’t I know. I had to take an obligatory history course last semester, and I honestly don’t know how I got away with some of the crap I put into my final paper. Sometimes I wonder if my professor even read it. But then again, I think he was one year away from retirement, so that might have been a factor...”

“Welcome to college, a temple of independent ideas and critical thinking.” Dave said sarcastically. “Anyway, I had some sort of sudden... creative flow this evening. I could feel it. And you have to take advantage of those strokes of genius while they last, right? The muse comes when she wants to come.”

“I guess.” Chris left his things on the desk and sat down on his bed. “I don’t know, I'm more of a do-it-by-the-book kind of guy.”

“Of course you are. All of you engineering majors are like that.” Dave formed a rectangle with his thumbs and forefingers, framing his face with them. “Square heads. No creativity.”

Chris brought a hand to his chest, feigning offense. “Excuse me, I’ll have you know that I can be extremely creative. I have an inner Da Vinci in me. Design ultra-advanced killing robots by day, dream up paintings of graceful nymphs by night.”

“Heh, I thought you only dreamed of electric sheep at night.” Dave put his laptop away and turned serious all of a sudden. “And speaking of that... last week, when I walked in on you and Ashley...”

“Oh God” Chris had been dreading that conversation. “Look, I'm sorry about that. I’ll find somewhere else to deal with my personal issues from now on.”

“What? No!” Dave looked both surprised and a bit offended by his reaction. “That’s not what I... Listen, I know we’re not exactly friends or anything. But, we kind of spend a lot of time together so I guess I’ve grown to appreciate you as a person and shit. And I notice things. Like some nights... look, there’s no easy way to put this, some nights I think I hear you crying in your sleep? And shit, I don’t mean to make you feel bad about it or anything, and I know that it’s really none of my business but... Shit, what I'm really trying to say here is that I worry about you. And that you don’t have to go through whatever you’re going through alone. You can count on me for, like, when you need someone to talk to, or just listen or whatever. I mean I might not be the best person to ask for advice, in fact I’ve been known to give some shitty advice in the past, but I'm pretty good at just listening. So...”

Chris let his roommate get through with his rant without interruption. He looked at the decoration that Dave had on the pinboard above his bed. A Queens of the Stone Age poster, a quote-of-the-day calendar hanging by a string and pinned to the board with a thumbtack, and a bunch of political comic strips that he’d cut off from newspapers.

“Listen, Dave... I'm dealing with so much right now, I don’t think I'm great company for the time being. It’s not easy to explain, I don’t even know where to begin...”

“Then don’t” Dave said simply. “Just go to the core of it all. What’s gotten to you so badly? Try saying it... in as few words as possible. I mean, if you want to. Just say it and I’ll drop this right now.”

Chris thought about it for a moment, playing absentmindedly with a loose thread on his jeans. It really was that simple.

“My best friend died. And I miss him every single day.”

There was more to it, of course. But Chris couldn’t tell him about Hannah and Beth, about the stranger who died in front of him, and especially not about the monsters. That would open a whole can of worms he wasn’t ready to discuss with anyone outside their small group of traumatized survivors. Maybe he would never be.

Dave looked taken aback by his statement. His eyes went wide and he slumped back on the wall. “Jesus, man... Shit, I'm sorry. Are you, are you okay?”

Chris shrugged. “I'm coping as best as I can. I have people that have my back. Ashley, my family, some friends... That helps.”

Dave nodded. “Good. That’s... good.” His roommate was choosing his words carefully. It was obvious that kind of situation was new to him.

Chris smiled. “Hey, thanks for listening. I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t sweat it.” The other boy waved his hand dismissively. “And you know, my previous offer still stands if you ever want to.”

“I might take you up on it one of these days. Thanks.”

“Do you want me to turn out the lights? I was going to work on that essay a while longer, but I guess you want to go to sleep.”

Chris shook his head. “I'm not tired. I just have a lot of stuff in my head right now.”

They didn’t say anything else for about a minute.

Dave clicked his tongue. “So... do you want to eat cold poptarts and watch Futurama?”

“Yeah, okay.”

* * *

 Matt seated himself by the bar counter and took a look around at the pub. The place was so cramped it was difficult to navigate it. He was glad he didn’t need to use the bathroom, because he estimated he would have to stand in line for a very long time if he wanted to. Pints of dark beer were being passed around over his head in a never ending flow, and a band was playing traditional Irish songs on the small stage, the delicate notes of the fiddles juxtaposing the drunken off-key singing of some of the patrons.

“Well, at least it’s less cold here than out there in the street” He said to Mike, who was standing next to him. It was a bit difficult to hear each other with all the noise in the bar, so he had to raise his voice.

“Yeah, but if we were outside at least we’d be drinking” Mike said a bit sulkily. Since none of them were 21 yet, they could not actually order a drink at the bar. Despite this, most college students sidestepped the law by drinking in the privacy of their dorms or passing down booze that magically appeared from somewhere –usually procured by a friend of a friend of legal age or a friend of a friend who happened to own a fake ID. College authorities saw underage drinking as a necessary evil and would usually look the other way unless something serious happened. And thus everyone was happy. Also, St. Patrick’s celebration attracted all sorts of people from all over the city, most of them older than they were. Matt suspected that only a fraction of the patrons inside that pub were actual college students.

“I saw a guy offer you booze outside while we waited for Jess, why didn’t you take it?” He asked Mike.

Mike’s face wrinkles in disgust. It looked a bit forced. “It was Budweiser. That shit tastes like carwash.”

“I’ve never seen you turn down a drink before” Matt pressed on.

Mike sighed in exasperation, clutching his glass of coke. “Look, I'm just trying to watch myself at these things now.” He explained.

“These things? You mean like parties and stuff like that?”

“Yes. I... I made someone a promise. I'm not like, going full Mormon or anything, but I'm actually trying to restrain myself these days. That doesn’t mean I like it though.”

Matt patted him on the back. “Well, whatever works for you, man.”

Mike and Matt did not despise each other anymore, although they were not exactly best pals either. Matt would say they had reached a point of mutual respect. Mike knew that Jess and Matt had grown closer ever since the mountain, and although he didn’t seem too happy about it in the beginning, he’d never outwardly complained about it. Matt suspected that Mike still beat himself up for not being the one to reach out to her in time. It probably made him feel unworthy. Matt understood that feeling all too well.

Jess appeared at their side all of a sudden, looking radiant in a green skater dress and a bright green ribbon interwoven in her side braid. She had even donned green eyeshadow for the occasion. She was carrying a slate tray of party snacks and smiling brightly like a social butterfly that had just broken free from its chrysalis.

“A guy at the door gave me all this food for free!” She said happily, showing them the tray. “He asked me if I was lost, and when I told him I was looking for my friends he was like ‘well, you can have these snacks, I was going to throw them out but if you take them then you and your friends won’t go hungry’. Isn’t it nice?”

“That’s great, Jess.” Mike said flatly. He looked even sulkier now.

“Aww, you’re jealous!” She teased him, looking very amused at his pouty face. “Come on Mike, I'm not dumb, I know he was flirting with me. But anyway, I got free food out of it without even asking, so joke’s on him.” Mike rolled his eyes and took a sip from his coke. Jessica stood between him and Matt and left the tray on the counter.

“I think I’ll try one of these” Matt said, taking one of the snacks. He had no idea he was eating. It tasted like salmon but with a small fruity touch, like it had been dipped in some citric juice. That kind of fancy food felt out of place in a party like that and Matt wondered who had brought it.

Matt spotted Chris and Ashley next to the door, looking lost. He waved a hand at them until Ashley made eye contact with him across the bar. They pushed their way through the crowd to join their friends.

“Man, we’ve been looking for you guys for ages!” Chris said.

“Did you see the parade?” Jess asked them.

“We arrived just in time to see two shirtless guys with leprechaun hats wrestling in the mud. Classy.” Ashley said.

“I actually feel sorry for all the street cleaners that have to work tomorrow.” Chris added.

Jess grabbed Sam and Ashley by the wrist and urged them to follow her into the dancefloor. “Come on gals! I don’t want to spend the whole night standing by the counter. Let’s show all these people our moves!”

“Careful with those pervy 30 year olds!” Chris shouted after them. They probably didn’t hear it. He sat down on an empty stool next to Matt and ordered another coke.

“At least some of us are having fun.” Matt said.

And with that, conversation suddenly came to a halt. In the awkward silence that followed, Chris, Matt, and Mike realized that they really didn’t have a lot to say to each other when the girls were not around to act as social buffers.

Chris stirred the ice in his drink with a straw. “So... How’s the football team, Matt?”

“We’ve seen better times.”

“Oh, okay.”

They looked at the band for a while, for a lack of something else to do. A guy in a green blazer that looked like a TA was singing on the microphone. By the look of it he kept getting the words wrong, but he just laughed it off every time he made a mistake.

“Does any of you know the name of this song?” Matt asked.

“McAlpine’s Fusiliers” Mike replied quietly. When he noticed that they were giving him weird looks, he shrugged. “My family is Irish.”

“No way” Chris said, adjusting his glasses as if to make sure he was seeing clearly. “I think the singer is my systems teacher!”

The song ended and the guy in the green blazer left the stage between cheers and claps of applause. The man spotted Chris at the bar and pointed a finger at him. “Phillips, I expect to see you in class tomorrow morning at 8 o’clock!” He shouted from across the room.

“Yes sir.” Chris said curtly, hiding his embarrassment behind his glass of coke.

“Well, you know you’re getting older when hanging out with your teacher at a party doesn’t seem so weird.” Mike mused after that. “And by the way, I just remembered I have to make some phone calls. I need to step outside for a sec. I’ll be right back.” He patted Chris on the back and disappeared among the crowd.

Matt took a seat on the stool next to Chris. Something that looked like a bar brawl had started in a corner, with people circling on two guys that were shouting and pushing each other. Before it could escalate any further, two burly looking men grabbed each one of the guys arguing and started shoving them towards the exit. Matt was actually surprised that was the only altercation he’d witnessed so far that night.

“Temple of critical thinking my ass.” Chris mumbled.

Matt gave him a puzzled look. “What?”

“Oh, nothing. Just thinking out loud.”

After a brief pause in which the musicians tuned their instruments, the fast-paced jigs resumed. The girl playing fiddle was clearly straining herself to keep up, but Matt gave her credit for trying her hardest.

“Josh loved St. Patrick’s Day.” Chris said out of the blue. Matt gave him a sideways glance, but Chris wasn’t looking at him, he was looking at the band.

“Yeah. Sounds like him.”

“We almost got busted by the cops one time in senior year for drinking in the park at night, but we got away with a warning thanks to Josh’s charisma” Chris told him, a nostalgic smile on his face. “Then we wandered the streets for hours, trying to find a karaoke bar we could sneak into and quoting _The Boondock Saints_. And when I got home at like two in the morning, my mother was up, waiting for me in the kitchen with the lights off like a Bond villain. She tore me a new one. I was virtually grounded until graduation day, but man, it was so worth it.”

Matt didn’t know what to do with that information. He’d never been particularly close to Josh. Heck, he wasn’t particularly close to Chris either.

“Did you two pull that kind of shit often?”

“Nah” Chris said. “My parents used to say half-joking and half-serious how he was such a bad influence on me, but most of it is just exaggeration.”

Matt thankfully resisted the urge to respond ‘ _you sure of that?’_

The girls reappeared at their side in that moment. Sam ordered a soft drink, complaining about how thirsty she was after trying to make herself be heard with all the noise. Jessica and Matt started talking about their classes and Ashley sat on Chris’ lap like it was the most normal thing in the world. Mike returned a while later, and for about an hour they just stayed there, catching up with each other and enjoying the music. Apart from Mike complaining ‘I can’t believe I'm actually sober on St. Paddy’s day’, the evening went on rather well.

“Jess, you look tired” Mike said softly, placing a hand on her lower back. “Do you want to leave?”

“Nah, I'm fine” she tried to shrug it off, but the weariness was clear in her eyes.

“Come on, Jess.” Mike leaned forward and his voice dropped almost to a whisper. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

The others looked a bit uncomfortable seeing that exchange. Chris intervened before Jessica could protest again. “Um, guys, what do you think of us going to my dorm to watch a movie? The place will be mostly empty, and if we hurry we can get there before curfew.”

“I'm down for that.” Sam said.

“Yeah, me too.” Ashley agreed.

Mike waved a hand to the bartender to pay their tab.

 

The dorm was eerily quiet in comparison to the ruckus in the street. The only person they saw was a guy in a Celtics shirt sleeping at the bottom of the stairs. Somehow the six of them managed to fit on top of Chris’ bed, although Jess had to sit on Mike’s lap and Sam was holding onto Matt’s shoulders to not fall off the edge of the bed. Ashley sat cross-legged with Chris’ arms around her waist. She took his laptop and proceeded to play the movie.

“What are we watching?” Jess asked.

“The Secret of Kells” Ashley answered, typing on the keyboard.

Mike looked over Jessica’s shoulder at the computer screen and frowned when he saw that it was an animation film. “Wait. Are we watching a kid’s movie?”

Ashley shrugged. “It was on an internet list of ‘movies to watch on St. Patrick’s Day’. And it was the one that sounded the least depressing, so...”

“Yeah, but still, I think watching cartoons with you guys is something I’d enjoy more if I was drunk, and I'm not drunk.”

“Man, will you stop complaining about that already?” Matt berated him.

Ashley gave Mike an annoyed look. “You’d rather we watched _The Wind That Shakes The Barley_?”

Mike grimaced. “God no.”

“Then shut up and watch the movie.” She said with finality.

An hour passed by. The laptop screen illuminated their faces with a soft bluish glow, and they did not talk for the most part. Jessica and Sam made most of the commentary, and Matt started to fall asleep around the thirty minute mark. And then, they heard a voice in the hallway coming closer, singing slightly out of tune.

_“For the wearing of the green, for the wearing of the green, they’re hanging men and women for the wearing of the green...”_

The door opened and they all had to squint in the sudden burst of light when the intruder turned the switch on. Matt jolted awake and his eyes flew to the door like everyone else’s.

The newcomer looked at the group of people camped on Chris’ bed, blinking rapidly in confusion. He leaned on the doorframe and rubbed his eyes. He’d probably had a couple drinks too many. “Uhh, Chris, I don’t mind if you want to throw private parties here, but please, warn a guy in advance...” He said, his words only slurring a little.

“Who the hell are you?” Mike asked. It came out harsher than he’d intended.

The young man gave him a perplexed look, like he was too drunk or too tired to process that level of hostility. He extended a hand half-heartedly. “Dave Spiegel, _I live here_ , pleased to meet you.” When it was clear that nobody on that bed was going to get up and shake his hand, he dropped it and sighed. “Well, nice to meet y’all. Chris’ friends are always welcome here. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I'm going to get horizontal for a while.” He stumbled forward, just glancing briefly at what they were watching on the computer and commenting ‘oh, I love that movie’; before he fell flat on his bed, face down.

“Where have you been the whole night?” Chris asked him. “I texted you to come join us at the pub, but you didn’t answer.”

Dave waved a hand vaguely without lifting his head from the pillow. “Oh, you know, here and there. I heard there was this biochem guy who has real absinthe, but I don’t think I'm physically or mentally perp... prepared tonight for the Green Fairy.”

Ashley had paused the movie with the opening of the door. Dave didn’t look like he was going to move from where he was, and so the teenagers on the opposite bed looked at each other, not knowing what to do.

“Your roommate sounds like he needs to sleep it off” Sam said. “Maybe we should leave.”

“Oh, please don’t.” They heard Dave mumble. “I don’t want to ruin anyone’s fun. Just pretend I'm not here, really.”

They all looked at Chris then, deferring to him in unison since it was his room. “Uh, I guess we could turn down the volume a little to not disturb him?”

They continued watching the movie, this time in silence. Someone had turned the lights off again. Another half hour passed.

“You know, they say St. Patrick banished all the snakes from Ireland, but that’s just a legend.” Dave said suddenly, startling them. They thought he was asleep. “There were never any snakes on Ireland in the first place. Due to the Ice Age and the island being surrounded by water and shit.”

“What is he even talking about?” Mike hissed.

“I can hear you, Mr. Friendly” Dave said back.

“Yes, everyone knows that” Sam interrupted. “What’s your point?”

“Damn it Sam, don’t encourage him” Mike whispered, but they all ignored him.

Dave waved a hand dismissively from his nest of blankets. “The point is... people make stuff up about these things to feel better. It’s all... it’s a metaphor... about banishing all the bad things from a place to make it a safe and happy home. St. Patrick ended slavery and human sacrifice rituals and all sorts of nasty things in Ireland. He was a pretty cool guy...”

“Is he always like this?” Matt asked Chris.

“No, he’s actually rather cynical when he’s sober.”

Not too long after, they heard snoring coming from the other bed.

“I don’t know about you guys” Jessica whispered “but this night is getting too bizarre for me, and that’s saying something. Can we finish this movie some other day? I want to go back to my own comfy bed.”

Nobody made any complaints to that.


	7. Passionate Introverts

In the end, Ashley had to admit that it finally happened thanks to aunt Vivian’s broken hip.

It wasn’t like Ashley had been holding herself back. She did want to take things with Chris to the next level at some point. She was no prude, she craved physical contact as much as the next person. But for some reason she kept putting it off. She kind of had been waiting the situation to... present itself to them. She had expected it to just sort of happen spontaneously. And of course, with that kind of thinking, it never did.

Only when the wheel of fortune spun in their favour or the stars aligned or whatever, a chain of events unfolded and laid out the perfect scenario for it. It was then when Ashley realized that maybe she should try a more proactive approach instead. And the catalyst of said chain of events was none other than her great-aunt Vivian, who insisted that she was perfectly capable of carrying all her groceries from the store to her car all by herself, because seventy-six wasn’t that old, thank you very much. And she might have been right, if the steps that went down to the parking lot had not been so slippery because of the rain.

Ashley and her mother were having dinner in the kitchen when they got the call. The broadcaster was interviewing some local politician on the radio they kept in the kitchen because Ashley’s mother thought it was tacky to watch TV while having meals. She just had been brought up that way.

“Why don’t we adopt a cat?” Ashley asked, breaking the silence.

Charlotte looked up from her plate of overcooked spaghetti. “Huh?”

“I’ve just been thinking that the house feels a bit empty lately. Do you remember Chopstick?” She was referring to the cat they used to own when she was a kid.

“Yes, I remember how he ran away one day when I left the door open for half a second and never came back. And then you cried yourself to sleep for a week.”

Ashley frowned. “Wow, mom, way to rub it in my face.”

Her mother sighed. “I just don’t want you to get disappointed like that again.”

“I'm a big girl now. I think I can handle it.”

“Don’t be so petulant. And anyway, why bring this up now after ten years?”

Ashley shrugged. “I don’t know. I just really miss having a pet.”

“Mmmh.” That was Charlotte’s favourite answer to most questions. It was short, uninformative, and noncommittal. Just the way she liked it. “I’ll think about it. We’ll see.”

Ashley beamed. She knew her mother would give in eventually. “Thanks, mom!”

“Don’t get so excited. I'm not making any promises.”

“Sure, mom.”

They continued having dinner in silence for a while. The interview was over and now they were broadcasting the weather forecast. Light rains and strong gusts of wind were expected throughout the following morning and into the early hours of the afternoon. How surprising. And suddenly, the phone in the entrance hall started ringing obnoxiously.

“I’ll get it.” Charlotte said.

Ashley overheard snippets of the conversation. It was difficult not to since her mother wasn’t exactly trying to keep her voice down. Whoever it was, they were making Charlotte lose her patience very quickly.

“How long did they say? What? But... Look, it’s not that easy. Of course I care, but it’s not that simple for me! I can’t... Jesus, will you let me speak for a minute? I have a job and a daughter, I can’t just up and leave everything at the drop of a hat for you, Vivian!” Well, that explained it. Ashley and her mother might disagree on many things, but one thing they had in common was that neither of them particularly liked aunt Vivian. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just ask one of your neighbours instead of making me drive two hundred miles? Oh, well, _of course_.” The sarcasm was palpable in her mother’s voice. “Fine. I’ll see you on Friday. I can’t be there any sooner than that.”

Charlotte went back to the kitchen, looking visibly upset. Vivian was Charlotte’s mother’s sister, and also her only living relative. Well, besides some distant cousin Ashley had never met, but he had moved to Argentina in the nineties and he didn’t really count.

“Your aunt Vivian broke her hip.” Her mother announced, and then she resumed eating her dinner.

Ashley’s surprised expression was a more of a reaction to her mother’s offhand attitude than to the situation itself. “Oh my gosh, what happened? Is she okay?”

“She was carrying a lot of weight and fell down some steps. She just had surgery two days ago, and waited until now to call me.” Charlotte’s fingers twitched, a sign that Ashley had come to associate to her mother being in severe need of a cigarette. “Don’t worry, she’s alright, I mean considering the circumstances. Well, I think so, she wouldn’t really tell me much. But it’s going to be a real inconvenience for her for weeks so she needs some help around the house. This is the kind of situation when keeping friends nearby comes in handy, but you know how _talented_ she is at doing the exact opposite.” Charlotte put her fork down and scoffed. “And of course, she’s too stubborn to accept a visiting nurse. She’s getting discharged from the hospital on Friday. I'm going to pick her up, see if I can talk some sense into her.”

“Okay.” Ashley found no reason to object to any of that.

“I’ll have to stay overnight. Will you be alright?”

“I'm not going to burn the house down if you leave me on my own for twenty-four hours.”

Her mother gave her a pointed look. “You know what I mean.”

“Yes, mom, I’ll be fine. Do whatever you need to do.”

“What I really need to do is change the phone number so she won’t contact us again, but I'm afraid I can’t just do that.” Charlotte put her head in her hands and groaned. “Oh, god damnit.”

And then an idea started forming in Ashley’s mind. She rested her chin on her hand while she moved the spaghetti around the plate, thinking of the possibilities of having the whole house to herself for a whole day.

“Stop rubbing your face, you’ll get pimples.” Her mother said.

Ashley rolled her eyes but put her hand down obediently. 

* * *

 

Chris was not having a good day. With little over a month until finals and professors loading them with a ridiculous amount of work, mass hysteria was really starting to spread among his classmates. Chris tried to stay put and not let them suck him down into their cesspool of panic, but it was becoming increasingly harder to not give into the pressure as the days passed. Especially when some of the people around him had started to snap at the smallest setback.

“Oh my God Heather who cares about fluid dynamics? We have the thermo final in five weeks! Five! I'm still trying to get a grasp of the Carnot cycle, who the hell has time for this crap?”

“Damn it Kyle, I can’t understand a word off your notes. You can’t draw Greek letters for shit.”

“Well, I’ll just let you fail miserably on your own the next time you’re trying to calculate vectors at two a.m., then!”

_Don’t let them drag you down with them, don’t let them drag you down with them_. Chris repeated this mantra in his head as he made his way out of the classroom. He needed a nap.

He spotted Ashley right away. She was leaning against the wall, her tote bag with her notebooks hanging off her shoulder and the latest issue of the college newspaper spread out in her hands. She was engrossed in the articles, completely unaffected by the people walking past around her. Like one of those photos where they put a static camera taking snaps over a period of time, so in the final work you saw everything that was in movement as blurry fast shapes, while there was a central element completely in focus. She was the focus of this picture.

“Hey there, Cupcake” he greeted her, poking her in the side.

“Hi” she smiled at him, putting down the newspaper and giving him a peck on the lips.

“I didn’t even know people still read this thing” Chris commented, glancing down at the paper. “I thought they only used them to make paper mache sculptures at the art building.”

“Ha-ha” she rolled her eyes, putting it away inside her tote bag. “I actually read it for the crosswords.”

They walked leisurely, holding hands as they told each other about their day. The passed by a small circle of students who were sitting on the grass, listening to a boy with dreadlocks as he played a song on his acoustic guitar.

“Chris, there’s something I wanted to ask you.” Ashley prompted, stopping short in her tracks.

He gave her a curious look. “Yes, what’s up?”

“Well, you see, my aunt Vivian fell down and broke her hip.”

Chris’ eyebrows went up. That was quite the non sequitur. “Ookay, I have no idea where this conversation is going. Um, I mean, woah, is she okay?”

“Yes, she’s fine. But the thing is, my mom is going to visit her next Friday and she’ll have to stay the night. So I was wondering...” He wasn’t sure if Ashley was blushing or if it was just her make-up “if you’d like to... spend the night... at my house.”

Well, he definitely had not expected that.

“I mean, it just gets too quiet in there when I'm alone.” She rushed to explain, getting a bit flustered. “And usually I have no problem with that, but I’d rather not spend the whole night and most of the following day all by myself, you know?”

Chris didn’t say anything for a moment. He just looked at her with silent intensity.

“Yes” he said softly. “Yes, I would like that very much.”

Ashley smiled brightly. “Great! So... Yep, that’s all I wanted to know.” She laughed nervously. She was also quick to change the subject after that. “Hey, do you want to go have lunch at this new Mexican place?”

“Uh, sure.”

And they didn’t bring up the topic again for the rest of the day.

It sounded so simple and easy when you put it that way. But then, when Ashley went home later that day and Chris actually stopped to think about what he’d implicitly agreed on, all his fears and insecurities came crashing down on him. For starters, what exactly did Ashley expect of him? She didn’t want to be alone and obviously appreciated his company, yes, but was there something else? Just because she had invited him to spend the night it didn't necessarily mean that they were going to have sex. Right? Gosh, he could use some advice on the matter. Problem was, he could not think of a single person with whom he felt comfortable talking about those things. Maybe he could ask Mike. The two of them had sort of grown closer over the last couple of months, after all. Chris considered it for all of two seconds and then he thought better. He was so not going to discuss his hypothetical sex life with Mike Munroe.

Asking Matt was equally out of the question. And his classmates were… well, he got along with most of them, and for the most part they seemed like perfectly nice and normal guys –apart from Darrell Costa, who looked like he could be a guest star on _My Strange Addiction_ – but they were just acquaintances. Not people you told details of your romantic relationships.

And on a more embarrassing note, thinking about getting intimate with Ashley made him feel a bit self-conscious about his body. Not on a crippling level, but enough to make him question whether she would like what she saw. It was true that at that point in their relationship there were few secrets between them, so Ashley already had an idea of how Chris looked like underneath all those layers. But feeling up a guy’s abs underneath his clothes and actually seeing them on display were two different things.

That was why when his roommate came back to their room later that evening, he found Chris clumsily doing crunches on the floor.

“Well, this is new.” Dave said upon entering.

“Oh, hey!” Chris greeted him from his position on the floor, wheezing. “You’re... early.”

“My last class was cancelled.” Dave left his bag on the rug and turned on his computer. “Not that I care, but is there any reason for this sudden interest in fitness?”

Chris sat up on the carpeted floor and tugged at the cords of his sweatpants. “I was just catching up... with my old regime. I realized I’ve gotten a bit complacent over the last few months. They say regular exercise is a great way to relieve stress, did you know? Plus not wanting to die of heart disease at age fifty is a good incentive too.”

“Uh-huh.” Dave said simply, glancing at him over his shoulder before turning his gaze back to the computer. “Well, I’ll leave you to it.”

Chris stared at his roommate’s back for a moment. There was a chance that he would regret what he was about to say, but at this point he was all out of options. He didn’t want to ask Mike or Matt because he felt too uncomfortable telling them private details of his relationship with Ashley since they were all within the same group of friends. It just felt too awkward. Perhaps getting the unbiased opinion of an outsider was exactly what he needed.

“Dave, can I ask you something?” Chris said.

“Sure.” The other boy answered without turning around.

“Have you... have you ever been invited to spend the night at a girl’s house? Without her parents being there?”

Dave did turn around this time. He spun around in his desk chair slowly, accomplishing an unintended (or not) dramatic effect. “Is this about Ashley?” He asked.

Chris frowned. “Who else could it be?”

“Right, stupid question.” Dave cleared his throat. “So, um, what did she say to you exactly?”

“She just said that she didn’t want to be alone at night with her mom away on a trip. But it sounded like it was just a ruse, like she really wanted to invite me anyway, you know? Or maybe I'm deluding myself...”

Dave scratched his eyebrow with his index finger, mulling over those words. “And judging by how _gracefully_ you’re reacting this situation, I'm assuming you two have never...”

“No.” Chris cut him off abruptly, looking away. Suddenly the coffee stain on the rug looked really fascinating.

“Ah, I see. Well, there’s no reason to feel embarrassed. We’re adults. Sort of. We can talk about these things, right?” For some reason Chris had been expecting teasing and joking, but Dave was handling the conversation with unexpected seriousness and it was throwing him off. “Let’s go over this thing slowly. First of all, do you want to sleep with her?”

“Well, duh.”

Dave chuckled. “Excellent! So, I don’t get it. If you want it and it looks like she wants it too, where’s the problem?”

Chris pulled himself off the floor and plopped on his bed, fixing his gaze on the ceiling. “What if I'm reading this wrong? What if I let the subject drop and it turns out that she just wanted to cuddle and shit and she gets offended?”

“I don’t think she’ll get offended by that, Chris.”

“If you say so.”

“No, I'm serious.” Chris turned his head sideways to look at Dave. “Look, I don’t really know Ashley all that much, but I know a bit about people in general, and I’ve seen how you two act around each other. She’s, like... She’s the Leela to your Fry, man.”

Chris laughed at that, in part to hide how giddy and nervous those words made him feel. “You put it so eloquently.”

“Nah, I'm just good at selling stuff with nice sounding words. I should have majored in marketing instead of sociology.” His roommate said with a shrug. He took a blown glass paperweight from the table and toyed with it in his hands. “Just... Be prepared for anything. Whatever you do, for God’s sake, bring condoms. And if worst case scenario, it was just a misunderstanding, I think you two can talk about it without making a drama out of it.”

“Sounds simple enough.” Chris agreed, sitting up. He was feeling much more optimistic now.

“I'm not gonna lie to you though, there’s like, a ninety percent chance that your first time is going to suck.”

Aaaand that optimism was gone. “Wow, that makes me feel so relieved.”

“But that’s the thing about first times! You just get it over with to get rid of the shyness so you can actually start enjoying it the next time you try. It’s the second time that rocks. And the third. And the...”

“I think I got it, thanks.” Chris interrupted.

“Just don’t... jump straight into it, you know? Even knowing for sure that it’s going to be a disappointment...”

“Your faith in me is touching, really”

“...even knowing for sure that it’s going to suck, yes, thanks for listening, you still have to make an effort and try and make it special. So don’t be a dick and you know, try to listen to her, make her feel at ease...” Dave put the paperweight down and sighed “Look, I don’t think I'm telling you anything you don’t already know.”

Chris just nodded. That was true, deep down he already knew what he had to do. But it actually helped to hear it said out loud. Socratic method and all that. “I just feel like I'm inevitably going to ruin it by saying or doing something stupid.” He admitted.

“Oh come on, count your blessings. It could be much worse. I mean, either if it’s good or bad, your first time is going to be in a nice setting with someone who cares a lot about you. That’s more than what some people get...” Dave trailed off, and for a moment he looked bitter, like he was speaking from experience. “Anyway, don’t over think it. And by the way, we might need to agree on a code or something if you two are going to start using this room as your designated love nest.”

Chris snorted. “As long as it’s not that tie on the doorknob thing.”

“Geez, no, that’s fucking lame. Besides, I don’t even think I _own_ a tie.”

* * *

 

Ashley stood on the sidewalk and watched her mother put a small suitcase inside the trunk of the car. The girl wrapped her knit cardigan tightly around herself and shivered momentarily. It would get dark in less than an hour and the chill in the air was already noticeable.

“Remember to lock the door and to turn down the thermostat before going to bed.” Her mother said.

“Yes, mom, I know.” Ashley replied. “Call when you get there.”

“Will do.” And in a most unexpected fashion, Charlotte gave her daughter a hug before getting in the car. Ashley’s mother was usually not the hugging type, but she had her moments. “Be safe.”

Ashley watched the car drive away from the neighbourhood and disappear around a corner. She waited a couple of minutes to make sure that her mother had not forgotten anything behind and her car would not suddenly reappear at the end of the street. Then, she texted Chris.

_Mama Eagle left the nest. Coast is clear._

The phrasing was a tad childish, but it was fitting in a way. They were acting like children, being sneaky behind her mother’s back and all.

She went inside and watched some TV while she waited. She did not receive a reply. Not even ten minutes later, she heard a car pulling into the driveway. Ashley walked out the front door and smirked at Chris as he exited his car. “That was quick.” She said.

Chris hung his backpack over one shoulder and smiled sheepishly. “I might have been sitting in my car outside the mall while I waited for you to give me the go ahead.”

Ashley wrapped her hand around his arm and led him inside the house. “What were you doing at the mall?”

He took a second too long to answer. “I needed hair gel.”

They stood in the entrance hall, shuffling their feet and smiling timidly. There was a cloud of hesitation hanging in the air with all the unspoken words between them floating in it.

“Oh, I forgot” Ashley said. “I have to go take out the trash and stuff. Why don’t you leave your things in my room while I do that?”

“Sure.” Chris said, looking at the stairs. “Which one’s your room?”

“Third door on the right!” She answered before disappearing inside the kitchen. 

* * *

 

Chris had not lied. He really needed hair gel. Okay, if you wanted to get technical about it, that was not the primary reason why he had been at the mall. So what if he had gone to buy condoms and just happened to remember that he was running out of gel? No harm in killing two birds with one stone. And come to think about it, better grab some deodorant and toothpaste while he was at it. Now when it came to actually picking up the prophylactics, he had stared at the boxes on the rack for far too long, pondering if trying to guess the trustworthiness of one brand over another based on which one used the least stupid font was akin to playing Russian roulette. Probably. Thank God for internet reviews. Chris had then avoided eye contact with the cashier, but the girl had not even batted an eye. She was probably counting down the minutes until her shift was over.

The door to Ashley’s bedroom was white and decorated with bird silhouette stickers. He opened it slowly and stood in the doorway for a moment. The room was mostly spotless with only a few signs of disarray here and there. A sweater thrown on a chair. A bottle of nail polish on the bedside table. An open notebook and uncapped highlighter on the desk. It smelled faintly of vanilla. The consumed rests of wax on a tin pot confirmed his suspicion that Ashley was a fan of aromatic candles. Chris left his bag on the floor by the bed, capped the highlighter on the table (because it was going to dry up otherwise and it was bothering him) and started snooping around a bit. He didn’t go through her drawers like a stalker or anything like that, he merely looked at what was already on sight. Plus, he didn’t need to look inside her wardrobe to know that she had a full collection of colored tights, probably organized by the colors of the rainbow. She had a patchwork quilt on her bed that looked handmade. Ashley had mentioned once that her mother was pretty skilled with a sewing machine, and she was trying to learn herself but still sucked at it. The pale blue walls were decorated with more wall stickers and a poster of the movie _Lost in Translation_.

Chris moved on to the bookshelf and smiled. Of course she had organized her books in alphabetical order by writer. He read the names of some of the authors. Nick Hornby. John Irving. Iris Murdoch. Joyce Carol Oates. Yoko Ogawa. And woah, she had the entire Lemony Snicket series. Props to her.

A sudden knocking on the door startled him, making him drop a hardcover copy of _The Joy Luck Club_ on the floor. He blurted out an apology and bent down to pick it up.

“Sorry” Ashley said, watching him with a tint of amusement. “I was thinking of getting started with dinner, unless you think it’s too soon?”

“No, it’s perfect.” He replied. “Uh, this is a really nice room you have here.” Really, Christopher?

She chuckled. “Thanks. My mom helped me paint it.”

Chris put the book back on the shelf and followed her silently before they got any more awkward.

They made some chicken stir fry for dinner. Cooking together felt ridiculously domestic and Chris found that he liked it a lot. They ate around the kitchen table while they listened to some country music radio station. Chris could not stop looking at her, it was crazy.

Ashley poked a mushroom on her plate with a fork and scowled. “Damn, it’s all squishy. I can never get it right when I use frozen vegetables.”

“It’s great, really.” Chris was only picking at his food, but not because it was bad. He was so nervous he barely had any appetite. It was the good kind of nervous though, the jittery anticipation of treading into new and unexplored territory. “So, do you think your aunt will be okay?”

“I guess. My mom would tell me if anything went wrong with her recovery. Probably.”

Chris gave her a cautious look. “Sounds... complicated.”

“My grandparents died before I was born, so Vivian is the closest I’ve ever had to a grandmother.” Ashley chewed a bite of food and swallowed before continuing. “But without all the nice things about grandmothers. Like hugs and baked cookies and giving you money behind your parents’ back. Instead I got a lot of scolding and guilt trips.” She deadpanned.

Chris could recognize bitterness masked with sarcasm any day. He said the first thing he could think of to make her feel better. “Cookies are overrated.”

Ashley smiled at that. “It’s difficult to believe those words, coming from you” she joked. And then she sort of zoned out for a minute, as if she was debating whether she should tell him what she was about to say or not.

“Once, when I was seven years old, my aunt Vivian got so angry that she locked me in the basement for a whole night.”

Chris almost dropped his fork. “She did _what_?” Ashley was clearly taken aback by his outburst. He swallowed and added in a much calmer tone “I mean... what was even going on there?”

Ashley shook her head, the strands of hair of her ponytail flapping around her neck. “I don’t actually remember much. Basically, her pearl necklace went missing and she accused me of stealing it. She said she wouldn’t let me out until I confessed.” She took a sip of water and laughed humourlessly. “Turns out it had fallen behind the dresser.”

There was no way that was the whole story. “What happened after that?”

“Well, my mother wouldn’t talk to Vivian for weeks after she found out, that’s for sure. And then we moved here. Not because of that incident though, my mom had been talking about getting a change of scenery for a while back then.”

Chris gave her a sad look. He was beginning to realize that no matter how close their relationship was, there were still a lot of things they didn’t know about each other.

Ashley must have noticed the way he was looking at her, because she shifted uncomfortably in her seat and avoided his gaze. “It happened a million years ago. It’s no big deal, really.” She explained. “I don’t know why I told you about it.”

He reached for her hand across the table. “You can tell me these things, Ash.”

She looked down at their interlaced hands. Chris decided he should try to lighten up the atmosphere. “You know what, in return you can ask me whatever embarrassing question you can think of. Come on, shoot.”

She smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Actually, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you...”

“Yes?”

“Well, don’t take this the wrong way, but why does your dad swear like he’s a character from a 50’s sitcom?”

Chris laughed. “That’s a good one, actually. You see, when my dad was a kid, his mother had a swear jar for him and she was very strict about enforcing it. So, after years of either learning to restrain his urge to burst in expletives or seeing his weekly allowance vanish into thin air, I guess the habit just stuck.”

“Really?”

“That’s what he told me. But to be honest, I'm still not completely sure that he wasn’t just fucking with me when he told me that story. My dad’s poker face is fucking insane.”

That got her to laugh out loud. Chris counted it as a win. “Don’t make me get you a swear jar too.” She teased.

It was still early when they finished dinner and washed the dishes, so they set themselves on the couch to watch a movie. After half an hour they realized that it was a pretty boring movie, but neither suggested changing the channel since they were not paying much attention to it anyway. Chris was painfully aware of their closeness, of her head resting on the crook of his shoulder and her hand on his chest. For a while he was stiff as a plank, not daring to move in case he broke the spell. Ashley must have sensed how tense he was. But instead of pointing it out, she grasped his chin gently, and after looking at him in the eye for a tortuously long moment, she kissed him. Chris made a sound in the back of his throat and put his arms around her. The remote slipped from his fingers and they shifted on the couch to get more comfortable. The movie was forgotten altogether over the following minutes, and at some point he accidentally kicked the ashtray on the coffee table, hearing it scatter loudly on the floor. Ashley didn’t even react to it, she was too busy planting open mouthed kisses all over his jaw and neck.

Their rendezvous was suddenly interrupted by the strident sound of the telephone.

“Ugh” Ashley groaned, rubbing her eyes. “Must be my mom. Give me a sec.”

She hurried out of the living room. As soon as she was gone, Chris took a few very needed deep breaths. “Jesus. Fuck.”

He picked up the ashtray (which was luckily empty, the last thing he needed was a mess of cigarette butts on the floor to clean up) and after turning off the TV, he followed the sound of Ashley’s voice in the hall. She had her back to him, so he walked up to her quietly and hugged her from behind.

“Yes, mom... Okay. Yeah, sure. No, I don’t mind. Yes, of course.” She was saying. Chris kissed her neck lightly and he felt her struggling not to giggle. “Y-yeah. Uh- okay. I'm glad to hear that. Yes, I know. Good night, mom.” Ashley hung up the phone and turned around in Chris’ arms. “Please, don’t do that while I'm on the phone with my mother.” But she could not contain the smile on her lips.

“Oh come on, your mom likes me. She thinks I'm cool.” He quipped.

“Sure she does. But I don’t think she’d be too happy about you being here tonight.”

“Is that why you’ve synchronized all of this secret covert operation?”

“Well, what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” She said flippantly.

Chris chuckled. Then he went dead serious. He touched her cheek gently and looked at her with intensity. “Ashley...” he said in a low voice “What do you want to do now?”

She straightened out the collar of his shirt and looked up to meet his gaze.

“I know we haven’t really talked about it yet, but...”

She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence, so he picked up where she had left. “Yeah,” Chris whispered “I know what you mean.”

“Do you?”

He squeezed her shoulders reassuringly. “Ashley” he said with as much conviction as he could convey “I'm happy with whatever you’re comfortable with. I mean, we’re both sort of playing it by ear.”

She gave him a smile of gratitude and kissed him softly.

“Take me to bed, Chris” she whispered in his ear.

He didn’t need to be told twice. He took Ashley’s hand and turned around, but in a last second decision, he changed his mind and picked her up instead. She laughed and wrapped her legs around him. He carried her up the stairs and practically bulldozed through her bedroom door.

Ashley plopped down on the bed and looked at him expectantly. Chris swallowed.

“Um, mind if I go to the bathroom for a second?” He asked.

“No, of course, suit yourself...” He didn’t even wait for her to finish her sentence to dash through the door.

He locked himself inside the small bathroom in the hallway and knocked his head against the door.

“Okay, okay. This is fine.” Chris said to himself. He looked at his reflection in the mirror. “This is happening. No need to freak out.” He splashed cold water on his face. And washed his hands. Because reasons.

When he came back, Ashley was fiddling with the stereo on one of the shelves. She had discarded her cardigan and was barefoot. That reminded Chris to take off his shoes and socks, which he threw haphazardly in a corner.

“I was thinking on playing some music” Ashley told him. “To get a, uh, nice mood. But I'm not sure of what you like...”

Chris shook his head. “Actually, I think I’d rather not have music playing on the background.”

“Okay.” She whispered. “It’s probably better that way. It would be pretty awkward if my Beach Boys playlist started playing unexpectedly, right?” And Chris thought it was his specialty to defuse tension with jokes.

He approached her slowly and put his hands on her waist. Kissing her lovingly, he guided her to the bed. She let him take the lead, sighing into his mouth and making these sort-of-but-not-quite moaning sounds. He ended up on top of her, supporting his weight on his elbows to not crush her.

“I, uh, I have some condoms in my bag” he whispered after pausing to catch his breath.

She gave him a knowing smile. “And I have some in the bedside drawer, too.”

Chris sighed. “We really need to work on our communication.” Ashley giggled. For some reason she was finding the whole thing very amusing.

A bit timidly at first, they helped each other off their clothes. Chris’ mind was almost like in a daze, but it was the moment he took off his glasses and left them on the bedside table was when he thought ‘this is it, this means business’. The bedside lamp was on, so it wasn’t like they were fumbling in the dark completely, but it was dim enough in the room to leave some details to the imagination. Chris looked down at Ashley, lying down all bare and with her auburn hair spread out on the sheets beneath her like an ethereal being. She looked like the subject of a classical painting.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful” he stammered out before he could stop himself.

Ashley smiled shily and closed her eyes. Better to just stop talking, he thought.

It was everything they had expected it to be. Which meant that it was awkward and underwhelming. But at the same time, it was surprisingly tender and endearing.

Afterwards, they lied down on their sides and stared at each other with dopey grins on their faces. They did not speak at all for a while. Chris could not help the need to keep touching her, even if it was just by stroking her arm and shoulder. He watched with wide-eyed fascination how her stomach twitched almost imperceptibly with her faltering breath. Something had shifted inside him. It was not some kind of sudden epiphany, it was something more subtle. More gradual. Chris didn’t think that developing feelings for somebody was like a pathway across several squares like a game of snakes & ladders. Indifference. Acquiescence. Friendship. Infatuation. Devotion. No, he believed that it worked more like a spectrum. A continuum. In that moment, looking at Ashley as her eyelids began to drop sleepily, he felt like whatever he felt for her had just moved forward in that spectrum. And he thought only girls were supposed to get attached after sex. Figures.

Suddenly, Ashley burst out laughing, covering her face with a hand. “Oh my gosh, we’re such idiots! We could have been doing that all this time!”

Chris laughed despite himself. “I know, right? We deserve both a smack upside the head.” He closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her.

“Your feet are cold” she grumbled.

“You weren’t complaining about that five minutes ago” he teased.

“Well, I'm complaining now.”

Chris snorted and kissed the top of her head. That seemed to appease her. He pulled the blankets over them both and turned off the light. “Goodnight, Ashley.” 

* * *

 

He woke up to the sound of rain splattering on the window. The bed was empty and the door was ajar. Grabbing his eyeglasses from the bedside table, he glanced at the alarm clock and saw with surprise that it was only half past seven. Chris wondered briefly where Ashley had gone until he heard a hairdryer across the hall. He pulled a pair of pajama bottoms and an old shirt from his bag and put them on before venturing into the hallway. His ears perked with interest at hearing Ashley fumbling in the bathroom as she went through her morning routine. Growing up without sisters, girls had always been a bit of a mystery to him.

The bathroom door was open. Ashley was blow drying her hair in front of the mirror and didn’t hear him. Chris watched her silently from the doorway, wondering mischievously how long it would take her to notice his presence. She was only wearing a tank top and a pair of blue panties. His eyes trailed downwards and he laughed when he saw the slogan on her underwear. That tickled her off. She glanced up, seeing Chris in the mirror, and flailed so hard she almost sent the hairdryer flying against the wall.

“Damn it, Chris! Don’t spook me like that!” She chided him after turning the device off.

“Sorry” he said, still laughing. “Didn’t want to interrupt your morning ritual.” He pointed to the striking pair of panties with amusement. “ _Save the Whales_?”

She tried fruitlessly to cover up her underwear with the hem of her top. Those panties even had a smiling cartoon whale on them. “Shut up” she grumbled. “They were a gift Sam got me as a joke.”

He kissed her on the cheek and grinned. “You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed.”

She huffed. “Whatever.”

“How are you even up so early on a Saturday?”

“I'm a light sleeper.” She rolled up the hairdryer cord in a bundle and put it away in a cabinet. “So, I was thinking of making French toast for breakfast.”

Chris smiled, rubbing the expanse of her hip not covered by her top. “I love French toast.”

“Awesome! Why don’t you take a shower while I get dressed and start breakfast?”

He pulled her close to him and waggled his eyebrows. “Next time we should shower together. You know, to save water. The whales will be grateful.”

Ashley laughed and patted him on the chest. She left the bathroom without answering to his suggestion.

 

After surfing through a ridiculous amount of skin care products (the majority of which he assumed were Charlotte’s, because he doubted that Ashley needed face cream with retinol and antioxidants at her age) in search of dental floss (which they didn’t have) and cotton swabs (which they did), Chris took a much needed shower. When he came down the stairs, looking all prim and proper again, Ashley already had a small amount of freshly cooked toast served on a plate and was currently having a quarrel with the coffee maker.

“Wow, you’re a fast cook” he observed, walking into the kitchen.

She peered at him over her shoulder “Well, you just have to soak the toast in milk and egg and then fry it in butter. I can do it with my eyes closed.” She turned her attention back to the uncooperative appliance and smacked it with frustration. “Oh come on! Why does everything in this damn house break down?”

“Maybe you guys have a poltergeist” Chris joked. He immediately regretted saying it.

Ashley gave him a sideway glance and shrugged. “Yes, maybe.” She took a seat at the table and helped herself to some toast, so Chris took it as a sign that he hadn’t ruined the mood after all. He sat down and poured some cinnamon on his toast.

“How long has that coffee maker not worked?” He asked.

“Uh... I'm not really sure? On weekdays, my mom usually wakes up before I do, so she usually makes enough coffee for the both of us before leaving.” Seeming to remember something, she rose from her seat and opened one of the cabinets. “Never mind, I think we have an old coffee press around here somewhere. That should work in the meantime.” Her sweater rode up when she raised her arms and stood on her tiptoes to reach the back of the cabinet.

“Need any help with that, Smurfette?” Chris teased around a mouthful of buttered toast.

“Excuse me! I'm not that short! These cupboards are just impractical!” She managed to retrieve the coffee press and waved it in front of his face triumphantly. “See?”

Chris sighed and looked at the forsaken coffee maker sitting on the aisle. “You know, I could take a look at that thing. Maybe I can figure out what’s wrong with it.”

She turned around to look at him. The look of surprise and hopefulness on her face told him that she had not expected him to start offering to do things like that for her. “You’d do that?”

“Sure. It’s no problem. But I can’t promise I will be able to fix it though.” And even if repairing a coffee maker meant any inconvenience to him, the smile she was giving him in that moment was all the reward he needed. “Do you have a screwdriver?”

“Yes, we have a few tools in the garage. I’ll go have a look.”

 

Twenty minutes later, Chris was sitting down at the table with the inside of the coffee maker on display in front of him. There really wasn’t much to it under the bolted metal lid, but that only meant that it was easier to pinpoint which component was malfunctioning. Ashley was sitting by his side, telling him about her classes while he moved around some pieces of wire with a pair of tweezers.

“You sure look like you know what you’re doing” she said.

Chris just shrugged, but in reality the praise made him feel very pleased with himself. “I'm used to picking apart computers and other gadgets in class. Did you know there’s an entire subculture on the internet of DIY home repairs? Those guys can fix a busted microwave with paperclips and some duct tape.”

“MacGyver would be proud.”

“And his legacy lives on and...” He was cut off by the sound of the phone. “Your mom, right?”

“Probably. We usually don’t many calls here.” She said, quickly leaving the kitchen to answer it.

“Yes, mom, it’s all good here.” He heard her say through the open door. “Yeah. Okay. Sure. Okay. Bye, mom.” Chris had noticed Ashley’s tendency to get monosyllabic when she was on the phone. Probably why she preferred text messages. She came back smiling brightly. “Guess what? My mom says she won’t be back until dinner time. Which means you can stay for lunch!” She promptly sat on his lap and hugged the life out of him.

The impromptu gesture took him by surprise. Perplexed, he put his hand on her back and pulled her closer against him.

“Uh, that’s... great. More time for me to repair your home appliances.” He said with a crooked smile. “I have good news too. I think I found out where’s the problem with this coffee maker.”

“Can you fix it?”

“I hope so, but I’d need to go to the hardware store first to get a replacement for one of the parts.”

Ashley looked at her watch. “Well, looks like we have plenty of time.”

 

The errand did not take them long, so after paying for the item Chris needed, Ashley suggested they checked a new bookstore she had heard so much about. Chris offered no complaints. The bookstore in question was an odd little place, with a secluded entrance that was almost impossible to see unless one already knew where to look. Going down the semi-hidden doorsteps among a row of terraced houses, an old wooden door stood with a simple sign that read _‘Wouters’ Books’._ The place inside was dark, cramped, and smelled a bit like mold. The books were stacked on the shelves in no apparent order, or in small piles on the floor that teetered precariously. The aisles were very narrow and difficult to navigate without accidentally knocking something over. Chris had to crouch a bit because the ceilings were very low. That did not stop him from bumping his head against a lamp. He rubbed his forehead and groaned.

“Ash, I don’t want to sound grumpy, but are you sure you got the right address?” He whispered, taking her arm in his hand. “We haven’t by any chance found ourselves in the secret hideout of some satanic cult, have we?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “I had this place recommended by three different people in my class. Maybe the owners like basements because the rent is cheaper, hell if I know.”

“Do they also like to skimp on health and safety regulations because it’s cheaper? I don’t think this place has a fire exit.”

Suddenly a guy in a fringed best and paint-splattered jeans appeared out of nowhere in front of them. “Hellooo, new customers! Looking for something in particular?” he greeted them, showing a huge smile underneath his bushy beard. Seriously, that beard was huge. It was so thick Chris wouldn’t be surprised if there was a bird nest hiding in it.

“Actually, yes” Ashley answered. “Do you have _The Magic Mountain_?”

“Thomas Mann, right? Yeah, I think we have a 1960s edition lying around...”

The guy turned on his heel and beckoned them to follow him. He took them to another aisle that also did not have any tags or categorization of any visible kind. He kneeled down and picked a book from the bottom shelf. “There you go” he said, practically shoving the book on her face. “Anything else?” His smile looked almost frozen on his face.

Ashley looked almost as baffled as Chris. “Uh... no, we’re just going to take a look around, thanks.”

“Are you Mr. Wouters?” Chris asked.

The shopkeeper looked at him and laughed. Chris had heard people in his dorm having a few laughs late at night when they were stoned out of their minds and it sounded exactly like that. “Haha, that’s funny. No, silly! I'm just Walt. Mrs. Wouters only comes here twice a week. She lives in a little cottage in the woods...” He zoned out for a moment. “Well, I’ll be right there if you need me.” He pointed to a corner of the shop, but then he turned around and headed in the opposite direction.

Chris and Ashley exchanged a look.

“How did he even know where to look?” Chris hissed. “This place is a fucking mess!”

“He must have his own cataloging system...” She guessed.

“Yes, the one dictated by the voices in his head.” He looked down at the book in Ashley’s hands and frowned. The title was too ominous to be a coincidence. “You... you were looking for this book in particular for a reason, weren’t you?”

She gazed at the cover of the book for a second, tracing the words with her index finger. “It sounds dumb, but...”

“No, I get it.” Chris said. “We’re all trying to cope in our own ways. I bet Mike is spending every evening kicking sandbags at the gym to deal with his problems.” He gently took the novel from Ashley’s hands and selected a page at random. “Who says you can’t come to terms with your feelings using very old...” he skimmed over a few sentences “...and very pretentious looking books to express yourself?”

Ashley snickered and snatched the book from him. “You think this is pretentious? Try reading _The Elegance of the Hedgehog_.”

“The what?”

She laughed derisively and walked down the narrow corridor, grazing the dusty spines of the books with her fingertips as she passed. “Come on, I actually want to take a proper look at this place before leaving. Let’s see what we can find.”

And that was how Chris found himself mesmerized by a copy of _Pride and Prejudice and Zombies_ (because apparently that was a thing) while Ashley enjoyed herself like a kid in a candy store. The only difference was that she did it with a little more finesse than a child, but with just as much compulsion. He saw her dart from shelf to shelf, examining one book after another, putting them back on the shelf and then biting her lip guiltily, her fingers twitching, so eager to take every single volume in the aisle and run. The way she moved was like a description of her true self. Every motion was small and even graceful, but had a slight clumsiness and self-restraint to it, a constant flow of aborted half-gestures that revealed her inner enthusiasm.

Standing in that poorly-lit basement, surrounded by secondhand books, Chris felt a sudden flood of emotions. It was a rush of protectiveness and warmth like nothing he had ever felt before, mixed with something more primal. Like a feral hunger. It wasn’t just carnal desire, it was a like a... greed for all the things about life and relationships that he had heard about but had only crossed his mind in an abstract sense. Lazy Sunday mornings. Random small touches. Dinner reservations for two. Quickies in airplane bathrooms. Boring conversations about plumbing and taxes. Ballroom dancing classes. Late night confessions under the sheets. Burnt toasts.

We wanted all of it. And he wanted it now.

He marched over, his eyes gleaming with clear intent. She turned around to look at him, giving him a small grin.

“Don’t worry, I'm not going to actually buy all of these books” she said, completely oblivious to the fire that was burning inside of him. “I just need a minute or two to decide-“

She dropped all the tomes she was carrying when he cut her off by putting his hand around the back of her neck and kissing her passionately. He felt it reverberate in his palate when she moaned into the kiss, grabbing his arm for support. He cupped the back of her head so it wouldn’t hit the shelf and she mumbled something appreciatively. They lost track of time like that for a while. Chris felt the coarse chipped wood under his fingers when he gripped the shelf with his other hand, effectively enclosing Ashley in his arms. He didn’t know if he was trying to shield her or keep her all to himself. Maybe both.

“I hope this doesn’t turn out to be the most romantic place I ever take you to.” He murmured against her lips.

“It’s already becoming one of my favourite places” she replied. “But I think Walt is going to wonder eventually what’s taking us so long.”

Chris smirked. “We’re probably the only customers this hipster bookstore has seen in months. He should be crying tears of joy.”

She tried and failed to contain her giggles. “Shh, he’s going to hear you!”

In the end she picked two other books apart from _The Magic Mountain_ and Chris decided to buy _Pride and Prejudice and Zombies_ (“This book has grabbed my curiosity, I just _need_ to know what it’s like, Ash!”). They paid in a hurry. Walt gave them his business card before they left. As in, an actual business card. It said he was a ‘professional yodeler’ and ‘life coach’ and was written in Brush Script. Chris intended to throw it in a trash can as soon as he walked out the door, but he ended up putting it inside his pocket and leaving it there.

They were both very quiet and fidgety during the car ride back to Ashley’s house. She kept her hand on his knee. It was nothing improper, but still distracting. The moment they were through the door, Ashley took his hand and raced upstairs.

Dave was right. It was the second time that really blew his mind. Chris didn’t even bother taking off his shirt this time around.

They made sandwiches for lunch, and Chris finally got around to doing what he had set himself to do and fixed the coffee machine. Ashley yelped in surprise when the machine started making sounds of being functional again and hugged Chris.

“My hero” she sighed.

He chuckled. “Thousands of dollars in tuition are finally put to some good use, eh?”

He contemplated the whole meaning of walking into a girl’s life and start repairing stuff for her, and how it made him feel satisfied with himself in a way that he didn’t quite understand. There had to be some evolutionary psychology behind it.

He stayed for a few more hours till the sun started to go down. It was time to leave. They could not keep delaying it any longer.

“I don’t want you to go” she admitted, holding him tightly as they stood next to the car.

“I don’t want to go, either” he said. He kissed her forehead. “But I'm not going far.” 

* * *

 

Ashley’s mother returned later that evening, weary and taciturn. She didn’t tell Ashley a great deal, besides saying that aunt Vivian was being taken care of and they didn’t need to worry about it. Charlotte clearly did not want to talk about her trip, and Ashley respected her mother’s wishes.

The following morning, Ashley woke up to the smell of scrambled eggs.

“Morning, mom” Ashley said as she entered the kitchen, yawning. “Need any help with those eggs?”

“Nah, they’re almost done” Charlotte replied, changing the filter in the coffee maker and turning it on. “Hmm... weird” She mumbled when the first gurgling sounds started coming through.

“What?”

“This coffee maker’s been acting funny all week.” Her mother explained. “And now it mysteriously works again.”

“Really?” Ashley asked innocently, spreading butter on a piece of toast. “It worked just fine yesterday morning.”

“Mmm.” Charlotte hummed, frowning slightly at the coffee maker.

Ashley hurried to change the subject. “Mom, I'm thinking of taking a foreign language class next semester. What do you think about learning Chinese?”

“I think it’s a great idea, sweetie” her mother replied absentmindedly, examining the apparatus closely.

Charlotte poured herself a cup of coffee and didn’t say anything else for a while. Until all of a sudden, she enquired “Did you use the tools in the garage for anything?”

“What?”

“Some of the tools were out of their box this morning. What were you doing in the garage?”

“Oh, that... I, uh, thought I saw a cockroach. I went looking for insecticide. I couldn’t find it and I made a bit of a mess, sorry.”

Her mother gave her a blank look. “Did you kill that cockroach?”

“Uh, no. It ran away.”

“Mmmm.” Ashley’s mother took a sip of coffee and sighed. “The next time you see a roach, just boil some water and douse them with it. It’s more effective.”

“Sure. Good idea.”


	8. The Great Tundra

Professor Altman sauntered into the lecture hall not even acknowledging his students. He looked like he was in a terrible mood, which was saying something since the man already had a reputation of being a hard nut to crack. He left his briefcase on the teacher’s desk and immediately proceeded to write something on the whiteboard with quick, broad strikes of black marker. When he was done, he retrieved a thick stack of papers from his briefcase and walked over to the speaking stand.

“Last night I finished grading the assignment that you ladies and gentlemen handed in last week” he announced, clasping the papers in his fist like they had personally offended him. “And I have to say, in my twenty-six years teaching this class, I have never, ever, witnessed a lack of effort and complete disregard for the subject matter so atrocious. The disinterest that is reflected in these essays is appalling.”

Four rows from the back, Mike grimaced. He’d had a bad feeling the whole morning, like today was going to be a day filled with letdowns and headaches. And Introduction to Political Theory was far from being his favourite class. He acknowledged its importance in the curriculum, but the professor he’ gotten stuck with didn’t exactly help.

“I have to give credit to those who have tried to feign some modicum of effort by adding an exceedingly long list of sources, most of which have little or nothing to do with the topic at hand. I suppose you were under the impression that I don’t personally check every single source that you cite in your papers. Well, I’m sorry to shatter your delusions.”

Hardass. No wonder most students avoided ending up in the guy’s classes if they could help it.

Mike’s brow furrowed in confusion. He just didn’t understand what the big deal was. His eyes darted all around his classmate’s faces, trying to spot from their reactions to the professor’s outburst something that would shed some light on the situation. Had everybody decided to plagiarize their paper? Or had the whole class stopped giving any fucks at the same time? Mike had been having trouble focusing lately, to say the least, so he wasn’t expecting an outstanding grade, but at least he’d _tried_. Was his essay really that horrendous?

“Now, I know critical thinking isn’t something a young mind can just develop in a few weeks. It will take years before you start forming your own opinions on complex subjects instead of just regurgitating what you’ve heard other people say. For some, it may even take a lifetime. But I was under the impression that one thing this class full of eager young wonders had in spades was motivation. I’d hate to find out that I was wrong.”

The man surely did like his long sentences. Mike wondered if his teacher had rehearsed the whole speech beforehand or if his inner rage made it all flow naturally. Two rows over, Cole whatshisname was nodding enthusiastically to everything that Professor Altman was saying. Mike rolled his eyes. Like many of his classmates, Mike was majoring on political science with a minor in business (because apparently it made his degree more ‘marketable’). But Cole was one of those young people whose sole purpose in life was to get into an Ivy League law school and become a federal judge or something, so he had a minor in philosophy and basically no life. The guy spent half of the time parroting statistics or quoting Bertrand Russell. Fucking nerd.

“I cannot help but wonder if some of the students in attendance here enrolled in the field of political science for all the wrong reasons.” Altman was going on a tangent now. “Maybe some of you have family connections. You already have relatives working in the public sector. Your own parents may even be public figures, so it felt like the natural thing to do to follow in their doorsteps, right? Or maybe you were go-getters in high school, the kind that were always eager to participate in extracurriculars and enjoyed guiding others to succeed as well. Maybe being responsible for other people is more a blessing than a burden for you. Maybe you’re just power hungry. Maybe, on the contrary, you’re naïve fools with dreams of making a better world. Or, heck, maybe you simply didn’t know what you wanted to do with your life, but then you watched a few episodes of _House of Cards_ and you thought, ‘hey, I could be a Machiavellian conniver too, that looks easy!’ Frankly, I don’t know, and I don’t care. But the question still stands.”

Altman put down the papers on the stand, leaned forward, and addressed his class with a firm and hardened gaze.

“Why are you here?” He asked, punctuating every word.

It was a rhetorical question, of course. And it was directed at the whole of the class, not to anyone in particular. Still, Mike couldn’t help feeling like Altman was looking at him directly in the eye when he asked that question.

At the end of the lecture, when Mike went to pick up his graded paper from the professor’s desk, he found out that his grade was not as bad as he’d expected. It was still lower than the grades he used to get before… that, but it wasn’t catastrophic. He still had a chance to raise up his GPA to acceptable levels before the semester was over.

He tried to take his essay and move out of the way, but he felt the piece of paper between his fingers being pulled at. His eyes moved up slowly to meet his professor’s cold gaze. The man was still clutching the paper tightly between his bony fingers and was not letting go.

“Um… sir?”

Altman looked at Mike without blinking for moment too long, and then he just said: “I expected more from you, Munroe.”

“I’m sorry.” Mike felt like he was apologizing for far more than a poorly written paper.

He felt Altman’s eyes on his back all the way as he climbed up the stairs of the classroom and exited through the door.

 

Later that day, Mike was standing in line at the cafeteria buffet, examining the variety of meals on display, when an insidious voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

“What’s bugging you, Munroe?”

Of course, no other than Cole whatshisname was right behind him. Why bother with a proper, polite greeting when you can randomly ask creepy questions to your classmates when they least expect it?

“Well, hello to you too, Cole. What do you want?” Mike asked, annoyed.

“Easy there, dude. You see, I was here trying to find gluten-free bagels and I saw you. You know, you’re wearing the same ugly shirt you were wearing in the last meeting of the debate club back in December, and man, I just realized that you’re the only one in our class who isn’t affiliated to any major party yet.”

_Thanks for your input in my fashion choices, asshat, nobody asked you_ Mike thought. “Yeah, so?” he said instead.

“Well, Altman has a point, you know. I don’t know what you’re doing here if you don’t intend to participate actively in politics. Sure, you can try your luck in the private sector, but they’re mostly hiring experts from specialized fields in there. It’s all about government jobs for us, man. And for that, you need an ideology.”

“Do you really?” Mike was getting uncomfortable with that conversation. He just wanted to get his lunch and leave, not to debate with some pseudo-intellectual he barely knew and had no interest in getting to know. The time he interacted with Cole in class was more than enough. He picked some food at random from the buffet selection, not giving much thought to what he was choosing.

“I think you misunderstand me, Munroe. I’m talking about a set of core values. Something that’s supposed to permeate every aspect of your life and define who you are.”

What was Cole even talking about? “Maybe I just haven’t decided what I believe in yet.” Mike grumbled. He usually enjoyed casual conversations and small-talk, he truly did, but his mind was elsewhere.

“Understandable” his classmate agreed. “These are confusing times we live in. We’re oversaturated with information. But man, you need to decide soon. This is a dog eat dog world. Pick whatever ideology you prefer, but pick one and stick to it.”

“Do I have to worry that shit right now? It’s hard enough as it is trying to convince my parents that a degree in poli sci isn’t a total waste of time.” _And I have bigger problems to think about at the moment. Like nightmares about flesh-eating creatures and things like that._

Cole laughed at that. “Defeatism doesn’t suit you, Munroe. Look, in this field, it’s all about networking, networking, networking. Have you considered lobbying? Some of them offer internships for students. Look at me, I spent the summer working on a local campaign in my hometown in Iowa! It’s never too soon to start getting some hands-on experience.”

“Yeah? And how did that work out for you?” Mike asked, barely hiding the sneer in his voice.

Cole either didn’t notice his scorn or didn’t care. “Well, the waking up at six every morning and getting paid in peanuts parts weren’t so fun. And most of it consisted of handing out pamphlets or volunteering to clean up retirement homes. But I liked it. I met some great people. Plus all those pictures shaking hands with retired vets gave me a bunch of followers on instagram and shit.”

He hoped that by showing the least amount of interest the guy would take the hint and leave him alone. “Okay. Good for you.” They were at the checkout now. Mike paid for his food and picked up his tray.

“So I’m guessing you’re not going to join the Young Libertarians just yet, eh Munroe?” he heard Cole say behind him as he walked away with his tray.

“Don’t push it, dude.” He replied without looking back.

Mike took a seat at an empty table and entertained himself peeling an orange while he waited for Jessica to turn up. Her class had just started practicing with live patients recently, so it was normal for her to get held up with work. Mike had a free period on Mondays and Wednesdays so he used those hours to meet up with his girlfriend for a late lunch.

Jessica walked in just as he was starting to make a tower with the orange peels. She paid for her food quickly and made a beeline for their table. She plopped her tray down on the table, causing the orange peel tower to crumble down, and sat down next to Mike with a heavy sigh. “Jesus on a bicycle, I’m starving” she panted, shoving a bunch of fries in her mouth. She was wearing medical scrubs and her hair was tied up in a tall ponytail.

Mike chuckled and kissed her cheek. He gently pushed a plastic cup to her with his index finger. “I bought you a smoothie.”

She gave him a bunny-toothed smile. “Strawberry mango?”

“Your favorite.”

Jessica put the plastic straw between her teeth and slurped avidly, making noises of satisfaction. “Mmmhh. This is what I needed after the day I’ve had.” She said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Do you know what a perfect world would be like, Mike?”

“No, but I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

“Well, in a perfect world, people would brush their teeth after every meal and not just five minutes before their appointment!” Somehow she managed to look all outraged and dignified as she gobbled down her food. “It’s like, if you’re getting the procedure at a discount price because you have students doing it, at least don’t show up smelling like you’ve been eating off a fucking dumpster for the last ten years! Seriously, sometimes I want to shove a bunch of menthos down their throat, but no, apparently that would be ‘unprofessional’.”

Mike snickered. Jessica gave him a sideway glance, noticing the way his eyes had softened as he looked at her in a weird way. “Wha?” She asked with her mouth full.

“You know, I don’t think most people realize that you’re actually really funny.”

Jess looked at him in confusion for a moment before a smirk crept up on her face. “Damn right, I’m hilarious.” She said proudly.

Mike ran his hand down her arm, never taking his eyes off her.

“So, Jess, I know you’re not very big on social gatherings these days…” he said, hoping that he was approaching the matter with tact. The blank look that she gave him told him that he was not. “But, um, anyway, how do you feel about a little barbeque party?”

She frowned. “You mean, like, a picnic or something?”

“More like a family dinner in the backyard. It’s my dad’s birthday this Sunday and he likes any excuse to fire up the grill, you see. It’ll be just my folks and my sister, and maybe my uncle and his kids if they can make it. So…” He wiped a bit of mustard from the corner of her mouth with his thumb. Jessica stared unmoving at him as he did so, biting her lip when his hand left her face. “Do you want to come?”

She looked like she was having an internal debate about it for a moment. Mike waited patiently for her to answer without trying to persuade her any further. At that point in their relationship, he knew better than to try to pressure her into anything.

“What… what if it rains?” She asked.

Mike smiled. “A bit of drizzle isn’t going to stop my dad from making steak and ribs like there’s no tomorrow.”

“Oh. Alright. I guess I can skip the diet for a day.”

They both had classes in the afternoon so they had to part again after that, only to meet up again only a few hours later. They had fallen into a sort of routine where Mike would turn up at the door of the Dentistry building when Jessica was done with her classes and he would walk her to her dorm. They had never talked about it, one day Mike had just decided to do it and she just accepted it without word. Sometimes they would stop for a cup of coffee. Now that the weather was warmer, they would also sit on the grass and make out with the glaring sunset burning their corneas in the background. Mike tried not to think too much on the fact that they hadn’t been more intimate than that for months. It wasn’t the lack of sex that bothered him. Alright, yes, it did bother him, it would be lying to say otherwise, but he could deal with it. No, it was the fact that their lack of intimacy was a sign of something more serious going on with Jess. He didn’t know if it was about her scars (even though he had told her, both directly and indirectly, that she had nothing to be ashamed of) or if there was something else going on. He didn’t know what she needed, and he didn’t know how to help her. That was what bothered him.

“Do you think my shirt is ugly?” Mike asked her, as they strolled through campus. He was walking with his hands in his pockets while she had linked arms with him. Jess had said once that walking like that made them look like the celebrity couples on magazines.

“It’s not ugly, it’s… frumpy.”

“Oh, that sounds so much better.”

“You’re right, it’s ugly. Like, I’m starting to feel self-conscious about being seeing with you like that.”

“You know, if you want me to go shirtless for you, you just need to ask, Jess.”

“As if you need an excuse to do tha… Oh, crap.”

Mike directed his gaze to where she was looking at. Right in front of her dorm, standing on the sidewalk, was Jessica’s father, carrying a plastic box in his hands and looking around like he was lost.

“Um, babe, what is your dad doing here?” He asked with a nervous smile.

“Ugh, he’s been dropping by every week to give me food and complain about everything he sees.” Jess replied with a sigh. “He usually comes on Fridays though. Hey, dad!”

“Ah, there you are” her father said when they approached him. As soon as they were in close proximity, Duncan shoved the plastic container on Mike’s hands. “Your mother made shepherd’s pie, Jessica. It’s probably better than whatever processed crap they feed you here.”

“What brings you here, Mr. Lowell?” Mike asked with the friendliest tone he could convey. “I mean, apart from the pie.”

“Oh, you know, just wanted to see the future leaders of the free world in action.” Seeing Mike’s look of confusion, the man explained “Jessica told me you’re in political science, right? Kinda pointless degree if you ask me, I mean nowadays you could get a degree in cryptozoology and still become a politician. But hey, whatever makes you happy, son.”

“Dad! Don’t be rude!” Jessica protested before Mike could come up with a reply to that.

“Sorry, sweetie.” Duncan turned to his daughter, ignoring Mike. “I knocked on your door but there was no one inside, so I figured I’d better wait out here. And let me tell you, campus security leaves a lot to be desired around here. The guy in the reception desk didn’t even ask me who I was when I walked in, for God’s sake!”

“Dad, it’s perfectly safe, don’t make a drama out of it.”

“Yeah, like the Apollo 13 was ‘perfectly safe’, too” her father scoffed.

Jess rolled her eyes. “Was that the one in a movie with Tom Hanks?”

“Yes.” Mike answered. Duncan looked at him with an eyebrow raised with suspicion. “Um, do you want to stay and have a drink or something, Mr. Lowell?”

“Sorry Michael, but I have to get going. I have a shift in an hour. Take care, Jessica.” The man said goodbye, kissed Jessica on the forehead and left without further ado.

They watched him getting into his car and driving away.

“Please, tell me I’m better at expressing my love and care for you than your dad.” Mike said.

“Well, you don’t bring me shepherd’s pie to my dorm out of the blue.” She pointed out, crossing her arms.

“I sense an Oedipus complex joke in there, but I’m afraid of saying it” he teased.

Jessica punched his arm. “That’s gross, Michael.”

Mike laughed. And then he came to a sudden realization and stopped laughing.

“What’s wrong?” She asked.

“Your dad called me ‘son’.”

 

* * *

Chris was sitting alone in front of his computer, using the fact that MATLAB had frozen on him once again as an excuse to procrastinate instead of getting some work done. He had a slight headache and a stiff neck and he really wished Ashley was there. She gave amazing shoulder rubs. Amongst other things.

His phone started buzzing on the desk, which immediately brought a smile to his face as he assumed it was Ashley. That smile quickly vanished and was replaced with a small twinge of unease when he saw it was his mother calling him. Chris didn’t dread talking to his parents or anything, but they usually didn’t call him on weekdays. A myriad of bad scenarios started playing in his head as he picked up the phone. He tried to shrug them off. _The house collapsed your mother got into a car crash your father had a heart attack your brother hasn’t returned from school yet and we don’t know where he is-_

“Hey, mom” he said casually, concealing the slight tremor in his voice. “Um, what’s the matter?”

“Oh thank God you picked up” his mother answered with relief. She sounded stressed out. “Are you busy right now?”

“Well, not really… what’s going on?”

“Oh, I hate that I have to ask you this, but could you go pick up your brother from hockey practice? Something came up at work at the last minute and it’s impossible for me to leave right now. I tried calling your father, but he’s in the same situation with- Yes, Janice, I’ll be with you in a second, geez! No, not those files!” Chris could hear a second voice shouting back in a demanding voice in the background. There was a rustling sound, like his mother had put down the phone receiver or covered it with her hand, but a moment later her voice was back again. “Like I was saying, I’ve tried calling everybody I could think of but there’s no one available, and practice ended ten minutes ago!”

Chris already had his jacket on and was grabbing his keys when she finished the sentence. “Mom, it’s fine. I’ll be on my way.”

“Oh, thank you. I was so worried...”

“Don’t be, mom.”

Chris hadn’t been to the hockey rink in ages, but he still remembered the way there. He took the shortest route and drove as fast as possible. He didn’t like the thought of Aaron sitting alone in a dark stadium after the rest of the team had left, wondering why their mother was taking so long. And of course, his younger brother had no idea that Chris was going to pick him up, because their mother had a very strict ‘no cell phone for you until you’re responsible enough for it’ rule. Which made sense, but in that moment Chris wished he could just call his brother to give him a heads up. He thought about calling the ice center and ask whoever was on the reception desk to put Aaron through, but he decided it was better to not waste any more time and just get there already.

Turned out he needn’t have worried. When Chris walked through the automatic doors, he spotted his brother among a semicircle of other kids dressed in hockey jerseys that were too big for them. A man in a grey tracksuit, presumably their coach, was either lecturing them or giving them a pep talk. By his mannerisms, it looked like the guy wasn’t sure of which was it himself.

As if he had sensed Chris’ presence, Aaron turned around. Chris waved at him from the back of the hallway. Aaron gave a quick glance to his coach, who was still talking profusely, and simply walked away from the small congregation. The coach didn’t even seem to notice one of the kids in his team leaving in the middle of his sermon like they didn’t give two craps about it.

“Hey” Aaron greeted him, looking surprised to see him there. “What are you doing here?”

“Mom couldn’t come. She sent me to pick you up.”

“Oh, okay. Cool.” Chris’ brother didn’t seem very concerned about the situation either way.

“So… how’s the hockey season going? Having fun?” Chris asked as they crossed the dark parking lot towards his car.

“We suck” his younger brother replied nonchalantly. “But yes, it’s a lot of fun. Joey scored a goal in his own net the other day because his helmet was too big for him and he couldn’t see where he was going. It was funny as shit.”

“Oh. Well, your coach seems like a chill guy.”

“He used to yell at us a lot, but one day Parker went home in tears and his mom threatened to sue the club, so coach doesn’t yell anymore. Now he just locks himself in his office a lot.”

“Okay…” Chris decided that was enough hockey talk for him.

Chris unlocked the car and was about to open the driver’s door when he saw his brother walking around the front of the car to get to the passenger seat. “What are you doing?”

“Getting in the car” Aaron replied innocently.

“Don’t play coy with me. You go in the back.”

“Are you serious?” Aaron protested.

“Yes, Aaron, I’m serious. You’re too young and too short to ride in the front. Now get your ass in the back seat.”

The child complied reluctantly, grumbling about how his brother was a bully and everybody treated him like a baby. Chris rolled his eyes and turned on the windshield wipers. It had started to rain as soon as they had walked out of the ice rink.

“Where’s Ashley?” Aaron asked in the middle of the ride home.

“Working” Chris replied, stifling a yawn. The headache was getting worse by the minute. Suddenly all he wanted to do was to get in bed and sleep for a very long time.

“Oh.” The kid sounded disappointed to hear this.

Chris looked at his brother through the rearview mirror. Sure enough, Aaron looked positively saddened. “Something you want to tell me, kiddo?” Chris prodded with a smirk.

“It’s nothing” Aaron said with a shrug. “It’s just- Cody taught me this really cool trick with the skateboard the other day and I wanted to show her.”

“Cool trick, huh?” Chris looked at the boy through the mirror with an amused expression on his face. “I’m sure she’ll be very impressed when she sees it.”

“Shut up.”

When they arrived at the house, Aaron dropped his sports bag in the entrance hall and immediately dashed to the kitchen. Chris dragged his feet behind him, debating if he was too tired to make himself a sandwich.

“Are you going to stay much longer?” the boy asked him, unwrapping some cheese sticks from the fridge and devouring them.

“I’m going to wait until mom or dad come back. I’m not going to leave you here on your own.” Chris answered, rubbing his temples. “Do you, uh, do you have something to eat for dinner?”

“Yeah, there’s some leftovers here. Are you hungry?”

After some deliberation, Chris decided that his fatigue outweighed his hunger. “No, I think I’m… I’m going to lie down for a while. So, uh, wake me up if you need anything.”

“Okay. Cool!”

Chris went to the living room and went straight to the couch without turning the lights on. He lied on his side, covering himself with the old tartan blanket they kept on the back of the couch. He heard his brother fumbling in the kitchen and the ding of the microwave. He closed his eyes.

 

Aaron hummed to himself as he colored the deer’s tail, remembering to leave the tip white. Crayons and pencils were scattered across the kitchen table next to an empty plate with the remainders of his dinner. The noise of the front door opening got him to lift his gaze from his drawing. His parents walked into the kitchen, looking tired.

“Ah, I see everything’s under control here” his father said, resting his briefcase on the table and taking the empty plate. “I was worried you’d only eat a bag of chips or some other junk for dinner.”

Aaron shrugged and grunted something in reply. His father sighed and put the plate inside the dishwasher.

His mother kissed his cheek. “Where’s your brother?”

“He’s sleeping on the couch. I think he wasn’t feeling all that well…”

“Really?” Shannon poked her head out the door and took a glimpse into the living room from the hall. Chris’ head of blonde hair was peeking at the edge of the couch, the rest of him barely visible under a huge blanket. “Aw, poor thing. I think I’m going to heat some soup for him.”

Vincent peered over his younger son’s shoulder as his wife rummaged the cupboards in search of the cans of soup. “What are you drawing?”

“The Great Tundra.” Aaron answered.

The drawing depicted, with an impressive amount of detail for a ten year old, a small pack of wolves leaping on a hapless deer. The background was unfinished, but it looked like some kind of snowy plains with a few trees. The animals’ anatomies were out of proportion, and the red lines where the wolves’ teeth sunk into the deer were a bit exaggerated, in Vincent’s opinion, but still. Aaron had even tried going for realism by adding shadowing and some attempt of dimension. But he clearly did not understand how perspective or light sources worked, because the wolves on the back looked bigger than the ones on the front and the trees cast shadows in two different directions.

“Um, that’s… pretty.” His father said, frowning a little. “Where did you get the idea to draw stuff like this?”

“Dunno.” Aaron said with a shrug. “Something Ms Belcher said in class, I guess.” He gathered the pieces of paper and started putting the drawing supplies away. “I’m going to my room. Goodnight.” He said when he finished cleaning up the table.

“Goodnight, sweetie!” His mother said after him.

The boy was about to dart upstairs when the sound of the backyard door slamming shut caught his attention.

 

* * *

 

Chris was standing in the middle of the ice rink. The stands were empty and the lights were out. He spotted a small figure crouched on the ice far away, further away than they should possibly be in a hockey pitch. When he walked up to the figure, he realized that it was Aaron, tapping on the hard white surface insistently with his small hands.

"Don't do that" Chris heard himself say. "It disturbs the fish."

What fish?

"Don't tell me what to do" his brother replied.

Chris peered over Aaron's shoulder to see what he was looking at.

Ashley's body was beneath the ice, lying unmoving underwater. Chris knew that she was dead just by looking at her. Her eyes were wide open and she had weeds tangled in her hair, very reminiscent of that famous Ophelia painting whose author Chris couldn’t remember. There was only a gaping black hole where her chest cavity should be. It didn’t even look like a wound, it looked more like an empty void. A negative space clouded by black smoke and static.

Her glazed, vitreous eyes followed Chris when he moved. Staring into them was like staring at something that you knew shouldn't move but still moved in front of your eyes.

“What are you looking for?” Aaron asked him.

“No. This is wrong.” Chris said. “It wasn’t supposed to end this way! No!”

“Maybe you can fix it?” His brother suggested.

Chris looked around and spotted Ashley's heart a few feet away, where it had rolled down leaving a thin trail of blood on the ice. Chris tried to reach for it, but his legs felt like they were made of lead and he couldn’t run. Aaron rushed past him, picked Ashley’s heart from the ground and started playing with it. The heart bounced on the ice like a tennis ball, making a squishy sound every time it collided with the ice. Soon, Aaron's hands were covered in red, but he didn't seem to notice. "Catch it!" the boy cried, hurling the bloody organ in Chris' direction like a baseball pitcher. Chris caught it in his hands.

Ashley's heart felt thick and sticky, like a lump of rubber covered in viscous jelly. Chris dropped it like it was on fire. It fell on the ice and burst like a water balloon filled with blood.

And suddenly, they were not at the hockey rink anymore, but in the middle of a huge frozen lake, surrounded by mountains. The sky was cast in ominous grey clouds that roared with thunder. All the colors were muted. Aaron kneeled down on the ice and continued tapping on it, like he was trying to draw the corpse’s attention.

And then, something under the ice tapped back.

It knocked on the ice from beneath like it was trying to break its way through.

Cracks started to form around their feet, rapidly spreading.

When Chris looked again, Josh was standing next to Aaron, glancing down at the doom-laden phenomenon with an amused look. “It always starts the same, right?” Josh said. “The ones that are oblivious, the ones that are _innocent_ , are always the first to suffer.”

“Aaron, we have to go!” Chris cried out. His brother didn’t seem to hear him.

Josh laughed maliciously, the same way he had laughed after he had taken off that mask in front of his friends and revealed the inner works of his deranged revenge prank. “No chance, bro. If I’m staying, you’re staying. All of you.” He took a step closer to Chris and the ice cracked in a spiderweb under his feet. “You, and everything you hold dear are never leaving this place. _All that you love will be carried away_.”

"Why are you doing this to us?" Chris pleaded. "I never did anything to you! I never wanted to leave you there! I tried to come back for you!"

"No, you just washed your hands off me!" Josh said bitterly. "You gave up on me like I was a lost cause! I mean you bypassed the first four stages of grief and went straight to acceptance! Oh how very _convenient_ for you!"

“That’s not true. I haven’t accepted anything. I’m still grieving.”

“Your grieving process sucks.”

Chris felt sick, like his insides were burning and there was something icky and disgusting flooding up his airways. He started choking and sobbing. Josh watched him and laughed at his predicament.

"Chris, do you want a cookie?" His brother asked. Apparently dream-Aaron had some odd ideas on how to comfort someone who was in absolute agony.

"Josh, please" Chris begged between sobs. "Please make it stop... I'm sorry..."

"Not yet, cochise." Josh said. "First you have to know what it feels like."

An avalanche started to descend from the mountains. At first it looked like an amorphous grey mass, but soon Chris realized that it was a gigantic mob of wendigos. Hordes and hordes of wendigos, rolling and leaping on each other like potatoes being unloaded from the back of a truck, pouring on the frozen lake and surrounding them in every direction.

“Aaron, we need to leave RIGHT NOW!”

Chris knew the futility of trying to escape at this point, but he had to protect his brother as best as he could to his last dying breath. He couldn’t lose anyone else.

He couldn’t.

A big hole had appeared on the ice surface, a perfect circle of threatening dark waters in the middle of the spotless white. Aaron started walking towards it like some magnetic force was pulling him to it.

A massive skeletal hand emerged from the hole. Its fingers had claws the length of screwdrivers and its scaly grey skin was covered in black, pulsating veins. It started flailing in the cold air, aimlessly searching for prey.

“AARON, DON’T!”

Chris was unable to move and could only watch as the monstrous claw grabbed his little brother by the neck and dragged him with it under the freezing waters.

 

Chris woke up panting. He looked in confusion at his surroundings for a moment, until he remembered where he was. His glasses were crooked on his face and he was sweating so much that his hair was stuck to his forehead. He could hear his parents in the kitchen, so he must have been asleep for a while. He threw the blanket off him and bolted for the door that led to the backyard. He didn’t care that it was dark outside or that it might still be raining. He needed some air.

The automatic LED light that his dad had installed a few months prior lit up when he stepped outside. He had forgotten how potent those things were. It felt like being under a spotlight. A rolled up hose and one of Aaron’s old Frisbees lay on the ground at his feet, covered in mud. He crouched on the damp grass, grabbing his head in his hands.

“Damn it, Josh” he whispered to the empty backyard. “Why couldn’t you just talk to me?”

Chris heard light steps coming closer but he did not move. The person behind him stopped just one step away from him, and for a moment, they stood still in silence. Then, a pair of small arms wrapped around his neck and he felt a head resting on his shoulder. Aaron was a bit short for his age.

Chris put one of his hands on top of the child’s and closed his eyes.

“Chris, what’s wrong?” The kid whispered.

“Nothing” he mumbled. “I’m just feeling a bit sick. I didn’t sleep well.”

“It’s okay” his younger brother said. “It sucks when you have a fever and it gives you nightmares. Last time I had the flu, I dreamed I was being chased by demon alpacas.”

Chris chuckled, although it sounded more like a sob. They stayed like that for a while, unmoving, until the timer on the motion sensor ran out and the light went off. Chris rose from the ground and turned around to face his brother, and his movements triggered the light sensor again. He felt a stray tear prickling his lashes, so he wiped it discreetly by pretending he was only rubbing the sleepiness off his eyes.

“Yeah. It sucks.” He agreed. “But I’m feeling better now.”

Aaron nodded. Chris looked at his brother, at his oversized clothes and spiky hair, so similar to his own. The boy just accepted every white lie and bogus explanation Chris fed him without question. He was just a kid, he would believe anything grownups told him.

“Listen, Aaron…” Chris said “You would tell me if there was something bothering you, right?”

The boy gave him a confused look. “Like what?”

“Like… if there was something bugging you, like something in your head, or something someone said to you, and you felt like you had to keep it a secret… Something like that?”

“I don’t understand.” Of course he didn’t.

“I mean… if something happened to you, and- and you felt like you couldn’t tell anyone, because you felt embarrassed or for any other reason… Well, I just want you to know that I’ll always be there for you, okay? I’ll always have time for you, and I’ll always be on your side.” Chris explained, squeezing his brother’s shoulder. “I want you to remember that.”

“Ah. Okay. Yeah, sure. I guess.”

Chris smiled faintly. That answer wasn’t completely reassuring, but it’d have to do. He hugged his little brother once more. Without previous warning, he lifted the kid from the ground, making him yelp in surprise. He used to do that a lot when Aaron was a toddler. He kind of missed it. Sure, his brother had grown considerably ever since, but their height difference still made it pretty easy for Chris to pick him up and carry him like a puppy.

“Put me down, you jerk” Aaron protested, but his voice had no bite to it.

When Chris did so, his brother grabbed his sleeve and led him silently to the kitchen, where their mother had a bowl of soup waiting for him. Chris just sat down and ate it without word.

“Jesus, you’re burning up” his mother said, touching his forehead with the back of her hand.

“Yeah… I think there’s a virus running around campus.” Chris replied sleepily. “It’s not that bad, don’t worry.”

“You should stay here tonight.” She protested, giving him a concerned look.

“Mom, I have a seminar tomorrow morning that I can’t miss. I just need to get a full night’s sleep and I’ll be fine tomorrow, really.”

His father, who had been sitting on the other side of the table without saying anything, suddenly stood up and held out his hand in a demanding gesture. “Give me the keys.”

Chris blinked at his dad in confusion. “What?”

“Your car keys. I’m not letting you drive in this condition. If you’re not staying, at least I’m going to drive you to your dorm.”

Chris pulled from his pocket a keychain with a twenty sided plastic dice dangling on the key ring. He placed it on his father’s extended palm. “Sure thing, dad.” 

 

* * *

Silver cufflinks.

Claudia had bought their father _silver cufflinks_. They were even engraved with his initials.

Of course, leave it to Mike’s sister to outdo everyone else when it came to picking birthday gifts. If she had come all the way from Denver like the overachieving prodigal daughter that she was, she was not going to bring a forgettable present with her. Mike could not decide if he was more impressed or jealous. He looked down at the box he was holding as he waited for his turn to hand over his own gift, suddenly feeling terribly inadequate. _‘Just buy him something that relates to his hobbies! Money doesn’t matter!’_ That’s what he got for getting gift ideas from reddit.

In that moment he envied his cousin Zoe, who could just make a pen holder with clay and acrylic paint and call it a day. Then again, Zoe was twelve.

“Oh… wow.” Their father said after opening his daughter’s present. He took one of the glistening cufflinks between his thumb and forefinger and examined it under the sunlight. Its glimmer was almost insulting. “I see that they’re treating you _very well_ at your job, Claudia.”

“Eh, I can’t complain.” Mike’s sister said modestly.

Mike thought that maybe it was not too late to lie and say that he had ordered something much better than his actual present but it had failed to get delivered on time. Would he look like a douche if he did that? He looked over to Jessica, who was sitting on a stool by the kitchen aisle, sipping on a grapefruit mimosa. As if she could read his mind, she gave him a disapproving glare and shook her head silently. Mike sighed and presented the package with a smile.

“Well, what do we have here?” Kevin said, peeling the navy blue wrapping from the box. What he found under it was a hard plastic container with several compartments. “Um, what’s this?”

“It’s, uh, it’s a fishing bait organizer.” Mike explained. “You’re always complaining that you keep losing your baits everywhere, and this thing doesn’t take much space, so… Also, it has a solid closing so the expensive baits won’t get damaged.” He was babbling a bit at the end.

His father gave him a genuine smile and squeezed his shoulder. “Thank you, Michael. I love it.”

Heh. Maybe reddit was right after all.

Mike’s mother walked into the kitchen then with a tray of cutlery and paper plates. She went straight to the backyard door without stopping. “Kevin! Can you please set up the grill already before your brother burns his eyebrows trying to do it himself?” She prompted her husband as she went by.

“I’m on it, Bren.” Kevin said, putting down the bait organizer. He followed her outside, leaving his children and his son’s girlfriend alone in the kitchen.

“That was nice” Claudia said to her brother, bumping shoulders with him. “I thought you were going to buy him socks like last year.”

“Hey, everyone needs socks! Socks are always appreciated.” Mike objected. He turned to Jessica “Back me up on this, babe.”

“Sorry babe, but if you even think about buying me socks or a desk organizer for my birthday, I’ll dump your sorry ass.” She replied teasingly. Claudia laughed.

“I like your girlfriend.” His sister said matter-of-factly. “Anyway, I should go give mom a hand out there. Don’t do anything unsanitary in the kitchen, remember that people eat here.”

“Comedy gold, Clo” Mike said back as she left.

Jessica snickered and bit the straw of her drink playfully. She was taking her sweet time to finish that mimosa. Mike suspected that she simply didn’t want to go outside and interact with all of his family just yet. He hugged her from behind and kissed the top of her head. Her roots were starting to show.

“I haven’t told you yet how much it means to me that you came to this thing, Jess.”

She hummed around the straw. “Came to fulfill my duty as a good girlfriend, stayed for the party cocktails” she replied. “You didn’t tell me that your sister looks like Kate Beckinsale.”

“Yeah, she takes after our grandma.” He said, rubbing her shoulders. “You think you’re ready to go outside now?”

Jessica put down the cocktail and sighed. “Sure, why not.”

 

This wasn’t like the parties Jessica was used to. What she was used to was big crowds of people she only vaguely knew, loud music and a neverending supply of booze. Not that there was anything wrong with that. Better get wild and crazy while she was still young. The thing she liked about partying with practical strangers was that she didn’t have to worry about pleasing anyone.

But this, this was more like the church picnic her father had taken her to when she was ten. Or the family reunions she was forced to attend once or twice a year. Jessica didn’t particularly like anyone in her extended family, so those reunions were like an exercise to practice her forced smiles and pleasantries. Damn those were exhausting.

Jessica sat down on a plastic chair and observed the Munroes in their natural habitat. Mike was helping his dad and uncle with the grill. Mike’s uncle was a chatterbox, he kept rambling on and on while the other two did all the actual work. Mike’s mother was nowhere in sight. Claudia was talking to her aunt about her job or something, looking all sophisticated with her wrap dress and a glass of wine in her hand. The family resemblance to Mike was obvious. Like her brother, Claudia was all dark hair and glass-cutting cheekbones.

“Yeah, they offered me a better pay in another company, but I didn’t think it was a sensible move to swap jobs so quickly, especially when I’ve only been working there for less than a year. Competition is really tight in the sector, and I’ve heard that once you quit in one of the companies, you’re pretty much vetoed there for the rest of your life.” Claudia was saying.

Jessica realized with a painful tang that she didn’t have anything to add to that conversation. She was out of place there. _Emily would be in her element here_ , Jess thought sadly. She had only been in there for an hour and she could already tell that Emily would have a lot more in common with Mike’s sister than Jess ever could. Feeling disheartened, she looked away. At least they were leaving her alone.

Back behind the picnic tables, Mike’s cousin was practicing with her jump rope on her own. She looked so happy and carefree, just doing her thing while the adults were busy. And boy, that girl had some amazing skills with that jump rope.

The girl looked in Jessica’s direction and smiled at her as she did a crisscross jump.

“You okay there, Jess?” Mike asked.

“Yeah, I’m peachy. You sure you don’t need me to help with anything?”

“Nah, it’s fine. Just relax for a while.”

Jessica knew that Mike and his family were just trying to be nice to her, but sitting there and doing nothing made her feel like a decorative potted plant. She didn’t need to be catered to like an invalid, damn it. She examined her fingernails out of boredom. When she looked up, Mike’s cousin was right in front of her, staring at her eerily.

Jess put on a nervous smile. “Oh, hi. You’re Zoe, right?”

The girl nodded. “And you’re Jessica.”

“You’re, um, you’re pretty good with that.” Jess said, pointing vaguely at the rope the girl was holding.

“Yep, I want to get in the gymnastics team, but it’s tough” Zoe explained, stretching her arms above her head. “Hey, wanna see something cool? Look, this is called the side straddles.”

Before Jessica could reply, Zoe was swinging the rope over her entire body and skipping it under her feet very fast. The girl was barely getting started when the rope caught one of the paper cups on the table and sent it flying several yards, shooting lemonade everywhere. Some drenched the tablecloth, but most of it landed on Jessica’s skirt and jacket. Zoe gasped and cut her jumping abruptly.

“Zoe! I told you not to do that so close to the table!”

“Sorry, mom!” Zoe called back. She turned to Jess with an apologetic look. “And sorry about your clothes.”

“It’s okay” Jessica wasn’t about to throw a fit in front of a twelve year old over some lemonade stains.

The girl was still staring at her and it was making her nervous. She wondered if Zoe was looking at her scars. She was sure that she had covered them well with a scarf, but maybe it had moved without her noticing…

“Oh my God, are those _Dutch braids_?” Zoe asked, ecstatic.

Jessica smiled. “Yes. Do you like them?”

“I love them!” The girl exclaimed, clapping her hands enthusiastically. “Can you teach me how to do them? I can’t get them right on my own and my mom doesn’t know how to do braids, pleasepleaseplease-!”

“Fine, fine, I’ll teach you.” Jessica pulled a chair closer to her and patted the seat invitingly. “Sit here. First of all, we need a comb or a brush to part your hair.”

“I don’t have any” Zoe said, sitting down.

Jessica rummaged in her handbag for a moment. “Oooh, what’s this?” She produced a small plastic comb with a Delta Air Lines logo on it. “First lesson, Zoe: a smart girl always carries some vanity essentials in her purse.”

 

Mike watched Jessica and Zoe from afar with a small smile on his face. His father said something to him about getting the side dishes ready, and although he wasn’t really listening, he nodded and followed his dad to the kitchen, never taking his eyes off Jess on his way there.

Mike’s father took some ingredients from the fridge and started fixing some Caesar salad on a big bowl. Mike took a knife and began to slice some tomatoes wordlessly.

“You sure you like that bait organizer, dad?” Mike asked. “I still have the receipt if you want to swap it for something else.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Michael, of course I like it. I’m fifty-two, whatever stuff I actually needed, you can bet I already bought it myself.” The man sighed and squirted a generous amount of dressing in the bowl. “All I really wanted was to spend some time with you kids.”

Mike smiled. “Okay.”

“Is this because of those things Claudia bought me? I don’t want you two to get into a sibling rivalry fight a la _East of Eden_.”

He huffed. “Don’t be ridiculous, dad.”

His father mumbled something unintelligible. After a couple of minutes of silence, he changed the subject. “Is Jessica enjoying herself?”

“I think so. She’s making friends with Zoe.”

“Good. Good.”

His father looked at him for a moment, like he was unsure of the next thing he wanted to say. Lately it seemed like the man was constantly walking on eggshells around Mike and he hated it.

“You know, I don’t think you ever introduced Emily to your cousins.” Hi father commented offhandedly.

“I don’t want to talk about Emily” Mike cut back harshly.

His father put down the salad bowl he was mixing and looked at him with something close to shock for a second. “Okay” he said softly. “I was just sayin’”

Mike sighed and focused on the tomatoes he was chopping. The truth was that he’d been thinking about Emily a lot over the past few weeks. The guilt that was eating him away was so strong that one evening he just couldn’t deal with it anymore and had called her, although he’d needed a couple of beers first to muster up the courage. He hadn’t expected her to pick up, in fact it wouldn’t have surprised him if she had just gotten a new number altogether, but his call had gone to her voicemail.

_‘Emily, it’s me. Mike.’_ He’d stammered into the phone. _‘I just… I know you don’t want to see me or talk to me, but… I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry. About everything. I… fuck, I’m so, so sorry. I understand if you want me out of your life completely. Shit, I don’t blame you if you don’t even believe this message. I know I don’t exactly have the best track record to back up the sincerity of my words. I just don’t know what else to say. I hope you’re doing well. I honestly don’t wish you any harm, Em. Oh, and I think Jess misses you. Matt too. They don’t really talk about it, but I can tell. So even if you hate my guts, maybe you could consider giving them a call. What I did to you has nothing to do with them, you know? So… yeah. I’m going to hang up now. I’m sorry. Goodbye.’_

He didn’t even know if Emily had heard that message. She might not have even received it as far as he knew.

“Dad,” he said hesitantly “have you ever done something you really regret?”

“Of course. Lots of things. Do you want to hear about something in particular?”

“Have you ever… hurt someone who didn’t deserve it?”

His father frowned at him. “Are you sure I’m the person you want to have this conversation with?”

“Dad, please, just answer the question.”

The older man thought about it for a moment. “I don’t know. Well, when we lost the regionals in ’79, I blamed it on Ted Abernathy. I called him a useless moron. I was angry and I took it out on him just because he was the youngest of the team. I apologized an hour later and bought him a whole case of beer.”

“The magic beverage that heals all wounds” Mike joked.

“Ain’t that true” His father agreed.

Mike looked at his dad expectantly, waiting for him to finish the story. He didn’t.

“That’s it?” Mike blurted out eventually.

His father looked at him like he’d made an outrageous request. “What do you mean, ‘that’s it’? Were you expecting some kind of punchline?”

“I guess…” Well that was anticlimactic.

“Oh, for God’s sake- Well, I’m sorry I don’t have many gritty and juicy stories from my youth. I was a pretty boring fella.”

“No, dad. You’re alright.”

“Gee, thanks.” He paused to think for a moment, and then he seemed to remember something else. “Actually, I got into a very nasty fight once.”

“Really? When?”

“I don’t exactly remember. All my memories from those years are sort of jumbled up together, to be honest. It was after a Bruce Springsteen concert, that I remember. I was with my friends from college and we were just going home and- Wait, that was before Steven Van Zandt left the E Street Band, so I know it happened before 1985. The concert was amazing, they played _Meeting Across the River_ which they didn’t usually do, even then, and Bruce had this great guitar solo that– ”

“Dad” Mike interrupted before the story derailed into a rant about his dad’s undying love for The Boss.

“Oh, right. Anyway, so we were just leaving and suddenly these guys appear out of nowhere and say my friend Lenny O’Shea was hitting on their friend’s girlfriend. Lenny denies it and tells them to go to hell. One of the other guys throws a bottle at him. It doesn’t hit him, but everyone seems to think that it’s a good enough reason to start throwing punches. Suddenly everyone goes crazy, and the next thing I know, this guy is holding me face down against the pavement, twisting my arm behind my back and shouting something I can’t understand. Some other guy grabs Lenny and is about to rearrange his face, when he takes a closer look at him and says ‘Roy, wait, this isn’t the guy we’re looking for!’ Everyone freezes and looks at him. Five minutes later, we’re all good again, no animosity between the two groups, and the guy that was twisting my arm is asking me if I’m okay and if I want to go grab a drink with his pals.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“If I was making this up, do you think I would tell you I was a piss poor fighter who got his ass beaten in less than two minutes?” Kevin pointed out. “I ended up accepting that drink, by the way. Roy Parsons, that was his name. Great guy, besides the times when he got carried away by his short temper.”

Mike shook his head. He looked down and realized that he had chopped the tomatoes in so many tiny pieces that now they were nothing more than a red pulp.

“I’m a piss poor fighter too, dad. When it matters, I always disappoint everyone.”

He could feel his father’s eyes watching him, but he refused to look up.

“Why am I the only one you tell these things, Mike?”

“What do you mean?”

“With everybody else, you’re always all nice smiles and bravado. I doubt even Jessica has a clue of what really goes on inside your head. Who are you trying to impress?”

Mike had no idea of what to say to that. “I… I don’t know. It’s always been like this. I don’t even notice I’m doing it most of the time.”

“If you’re so worried about what everyone thinks of you, maybe you should try being more open with your emotions every once in a while. It would save you a lot of trouble.”

Mike scoffed. “Well, dad, we can’t all afford to go through life wearing our heart on our sleeve like freaking Bruce Springsteen.”

His father gave him a stern look. “Just- take this outside.” He said, giving him the salad bowl and walking away. “I’ll go see if your mother needs me.”

Mike realized with a cold shudder that he had made his father upset on his birthday by being an insensitive jerk.

When he went outside, Jessica was still busy doing Zoe’s hair. He left the salad bowl on a table and sat down next to Claudia, who was watching the sunset alone.

“What’s wrong?” she asked him. The guilt had to be showing on his face.

“I’m an idiot.”

“I already know that. Care to elaborate?”

He sighed. “Dad was trying to help me, and I basically scorned his advice like it was stupid.”

Claudia side-eyed him as she took a sip of wine. “He knows you didn’t mean it. Give him a while, he’ll get over it.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re the perfect daughter who always says the right thing and buys the perfect presents.”

His sister laughed derisively. “Don’t be fooled by a pair of shiny trinkets, Mikey. I bought those things at discount price and I still had to save for them.”

“Oh, so you’re just a regular wage slave then. Good to know.”

Claudia chuckled. She put her arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer to herself. He only let her because nobody was looking at the time.

“Mom told me not to pester you with questions” Claudia said softly. “But seriously, if you need to vent, I’m here right now. And I won’t be here much longer since my flight leaves tomorrow, so maybe you should talk to me while you can.”

Mike shifted uncomfortably. He had decided that he would tell his sister everything one day. She probably wouldn’t believe him, but he knew he had to do it, for the sake of his sanity. But today was not that day. He figured a small snippet of the truth would have to do for the time being.

“There’s not much to tell.” He said. “I went through a bad experience” he purposefully avoided the word ‘traumatic’. “I was scared, and I had no idea what I was doing. I’m just glad to be here now.”

“Okay.”

They silently watched Zoe running across the yard to the barbeque and spinning around to show her braids. “Look, dad, aren’t they lovely?”

Brenda came out of the house and everyone took a seat. Jessica sat down next to Mike and smiled at him. The kitchen window was open and they could hear _Thunder Road_ blasting in the stereo inside. His old man must be feeling nostalgic. He smiled back at Jess and squeezed her hand under the table while his father gave a toast.

_Well now, I ain’t no hero, that’s understood_

_All the redemption I can offer, girl, is beneath this dirty hood…_

 

* * *

 Matt stood impatiently in the middle of the campus, shifting his book bag from one shoulder to another. He didn’t understand why Mike wanted to meet with him so insistently. He looked behind him, feeling a bit paranoid. It wasn’t that late, but it was dark already and there weren’t many people passing through.

“Hey, Matt” a voice said behind him.

Mike looked tired, that was the first thing he noticed. Like he hadn’t slept well for days. Well, welcome to the club, Matt thought. He also noticed that Mike’s hair was messy, which was also unusual on him. He looked uncomfortable to be there, which ticked Matt off since it had been his idea to meet there in the first place.

“Hi.” Matt said. “So, what was so important that it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

Mike looked conflicted, like it was physically painful for him to say what he was about to say. “There’s something you should know. I don’t know how to tell you this, but… I… I…”

“Oh for God’s sake, Munroe, spit it out. Whatever it is, I don’t think it’s as bad as you’re making it out to be.”

The guilt and shame were reflected in Mike’s eyes when he looked at him. “I slept with Emily when you two were dating.”

Matt closed his eyes and sighed. “I know.” He couldn’t believe Mike had dragged him out of his room at that time of night for this.

Mike’s expression went from deep remorse to shock in a second. “Wait, you knew? What the hell?”

“Well, I don’t know _when_ exactly” Matt clarified. “I suspected it. I saw you two together that night in the mountain, and when I confronted Em about it she confirmed my fears.”

“Holy shit. Why didn’t you say anything?”

Matt looked down. “With everything that’s happened, I didn’t really see the point in stirring up shit like that. I just want to start off with a clean slate.”

“Yeah, me too.” Mike ran his hands through his hair. “Listen, if you want to know, it was right after Christmas. She called me. She’d had a huge fight with her parents and she was really depressed.”

“Yeah, I remember that fight. I tried staying out of it and she accused me of never taking her side on anything.”

“Oh.” Mike looked even more guilty now. “For the record, all of that happened before Jess and I started dating.”

Matt rolled his eyes. “Okay…”

He was about to turn up and leave, but then he realized that Mike still had something to say.

“You should hit me.”

Matt wasn’t completely sure that he’d heard right. “Wait, what?”

“Just hit me, dude. I won’t be able to get this thing off my conscience until I do something about it, and this way we can get even or whatever.”

Matt looked at him skeptically. That thing smelled like bullshit to him. “You don’t want me to hit you because you think it’s right, you want me to hit you to make you feel better.”

“What? That makes no sense!” Seeing that Matt wasn’t having any of it, Mike tried to explain. “Okay, maybe a bit. But the thing is, it will make _you_ feel better too, so… win-win?”

“This is crazy.”

“It’s far from being the craziest thing we’ve ever done, Matt” Mike said. “Come on… I know you want to hit me. You know I deserve it.”

Matt debated with himself for a moment but then he thought ‘fuck it’. “Fine. Let’s do this.”

Mike smiled. He rolled back his shoulders and stood in front of him, hands down and feet set apart. “Just give me a heads up, okay?” He asked, closing his eyes. “Or don’t. Maybe it’s better to do it without warning, like when you get a tetanus shot.”

Matt’s hand closed down in a fist. He could tell that Mike was bracing himself for a hit to the face. Time to remind him that Matt was in fact full of surprises. He took a swing and punched him with all his might right in the stomach.

Mike’s breath caught in his throat and he doubled over, his face twisted in pain. “Oh, you son of a bitch…” he panted, grabbing his midriff.

Matt gave him a second to adjust and put a hand on his shoulder. “You alright, man?”

“Yeah… just give me a second to catch my breath… fucking hell…”

Matt helped him to sit down on a nearby bench. “Maybe we shouldn’t have done this out here in the open. Someone might see us and call campus security.”

“No, there’s nobody out here at this hour” Mike wheezed out, shaking his head. “You feeling better now?”

“Yes, actually” Matt replied with a smug smile. “You were right, I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.”

Mike sighed. “Thanks for not hitting me in the head.”

“Hey, I know how dangerous head injuries can be.” He patted Mike’s back. “Any other great suggestions before I head back to my dorm?”

“Unless Bruce Springsteen is in town, not really, no.”

“What?”

“Nevermind.”

 

* * *

The room was dark and the air was stale in there, like nobody had set a foot in it for a very long time. Half open cardboard boxes were scattered all over the floor. The only furniture was a wobbly desk and a squeaky bed in the corner. Things like clothes, magazines and kitchen supplies laid untouched in their packages as the man typed quickly on his laptop. He had decided to forgo unpacking until he finished writing his article. Priorities. Besides, he knew it wouldn’t take him long to sort everything out. He didn’t have that many belongings. His ex-wife had taken most of his stuff with her and he’d been too worn out to care.

His phone beeped and he answered it without taking his eyes off the screen.

“Hello, this is Neil Biscardi.” Working from home meant that he had to answer every call in a professional manner, no matter what time it was.

“Neil, my old friend!” a male voice said cheerfully at the other end of the line. “How are you?”

“Shawn? Shawn Lennox?”

“The one and only! I heard you moved up north, buddy. What was the problem with Reno? Not enough murder-suicides for your articles?”

“No. Gina decided that we had ‘irreconcilable differences’.”

“Oh, right. I heard about that too. Sorry, dude.”

“Are you serious right now, Shawn? I don’t hear from you for over a year and as soon as I move closer to Vancouver you can’t wait to call me? I guess you want to take me to the same awful bar with the barmaid with the unibrow.”

“Her name was Molly, and she was a sweetheart. And FYI, I moved too. Vancouver was awful, man. Now I live in a nice little town called Blackwood Pines.”

“Blackwood what? Sounds like the kind or place where Nicolas Cage would buy a cottage for his shrunken heads collection.”

“That’s actually surprisingly accurate, Neil. In fact, one of the reasons why I called you is because I might have a story for you, right here.”

Neil stopped typing. Shawn never exaggerated when it came to these things. “Oh, really?” His voice, previously full of disdain and impatience, was now tingling with barely concealed curiosity. “Is it something good?”

“It’s bombastic. Tragic, shady, and gruesome, just how you like it.”

“You’re gonna have to give me some details here, Shawn. I need some context before I can start to picture the headlines.”

“Well, you see, I got a new job at the Ranger station here in Blackwood. It’s mostly a boring desk job, nothing ever happens here besides weekly bar brawls and the occasional car theft. But,” Shawn made a dramatic pause “a couple of months ago, we got a radio call in the middle of the night. I wasn’t working the night shift that day, but around six in the morning, they called me and told me to turn up at the station immediately. When I get there, there’s an ambulance at the door and I swear every fucking person that was supposed to be off duty that day is right there, running around like the world’s about to end, my boss is arguing with a bunch of firefighters and nobody tells me what the hell’s going on.”

“Okay, I’m bracing myself for the big reveal now…”

“What you need to know first is this: next to the town there’s a huge ass mountain. Apparently it belongs to some rich dude’s family, some Hollywood big name from what they tell me, although I’d never heard of him before. Turns out, the guy had let his college kid and some friends spend the weekend in the family vacation house or whatever, and at the end of the night the kids are at the station, looking like they’ve been through the grinder and talking nonsense about a stalker killer or god knows what. And here’s the best thing: the rich dude’s son is missing. They still haven’t found him.”

Neil leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath. “Well, that’s… noteworthy. How come you’re telling me all this two months later? Hell, how come I haven’t read about any of this in any newspaper?”

“Well, the Hollywood dad paid good money to ensure that this story remained just a local gossip. Let’s say that the Sheriff herself gave us all some pretty good _motivation_ to keep our collectives mouths shut.” Neil heard his friend huff with contempt. “Look, I waited two months to call you because I knew that if I did it before, my boss would find out and my ass would be at the unemployment office faster than you can say _tagliatelle_. So consider this a personal favor from a friend.”

“I’m touched. Anything else I should know before I embark on a journey to the middle of the frozen tundra?”

“The tundra is much further up north, idiot. This area is full of dense woods and all that nature bullshit. I’ll give you my address.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters are getting longer and longer HELP
> 
> Serious question: is this story starting to have too many characters?


	9. The Door Opens, the Tiger Leaps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another interlude-like chapter, sadly. I swear all this buildup is leading somewhere. Anyway, enjoy!

Convincing her mother to get a pet was even easier than expected. When Ashley brought it up again a week later, Charlotte said she agreed to adopt a cat as soon as Ashley found out where they could find one, because she was too busy to do research for that kind of stuff. Her mother had also made it abundantly clear that it would be Ashley’s responsibility to look after the cat and that she would contribute with the costs of pet food and any visits to the vet. Ashley happily agreed. The next Saturday morning, they drove to the animal shelter where Sam worked. Ashley was in the passenger seat, looking out the window nonchalantly as she ran possible cat names in her head. Her mother kept glancing at her every now and then when she thought Ashley wasn’t looking, like she wanted to say something but was restraining herself from doing so. Ashley pretended not to notice. Her mother had been acting a bit strange around her for the last couple of weeks. It wasn’t too obvious since the change in her behaviour hadn’t been drastic, but Ashley had noticed a few subtle hints here and there. Like how her mother seemed to hold herself back more these days. Her questions, which previously were prodding and invading, were now vague and open-ended, like faint attempts to reach out to her daughter. Her criticisms used to be way too frank and straightforward _(‘I'm gonna say it plainly, Ashley, you look ridiculous with that outfit’_ ) and now were slightly more tactful _(‘Umm... I guess it’ll make it easier for people to remember you’_ ). She also kept hovering around Ashley like she wanted to make sure that she was okay. It felt nice at times, but mostly it just felt weird and Ashley didn’t know how to adapt to this new dynamic.

“So,” her mother said, tapping her finger on the steering wheel “how’s college?”

“Oh, it’s going well. Nothing new under the sun.”

“Are you worried about finals?”

“A little.” Ashley admitted. “Like everyone else, I guess. But I’ve got it under control.”

“Good. Good.” Her mother said. “You know, when you’re finished with exams, maybe you could invite your friends over for dinner or something. Chris is the only one I ever see around anymore.”

“Yeah, I guess I could. Everyone’s just been busy dealing with their own... stuff. We’re all mostly keeping to ourselves these days.”

Charlotte sighed. “I know people grow up and sometimes friends drift apart, but if you don’t make any effort to keep your friendships alive, then...”

“Oh, mom, please, not this again.”

“I'm just saying that I'm not sure that you even have a social life anymore! That can’t be healthy, especially at your age.”

“Mom, seriously, it’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be, okay? Let’s just get to the shelter.”

Her mother sighed audibly as her way of saying ‘well, I tried’. Ashley felt bad for it, but she didn’t know how to carry out a conversation about ‘deep feelings’ with her mother. They were both much happier when they ignored the elephant in the room, in her opinion. They drove in silence for a while, and then out of the blue, so quietly that Ashley almost didn’t hear it, her mother said:

“Sometimes... I feel like you’re slipping away. Like you’re wasting your potential.”

Ashley didn’t know how to respond to that, so she didn’t.

Sam came out to receive them when they pulled up, and Ashley was surprised to see Matt coming out of the building as well. They were both smiling brightly and Matt was casually carrying a broom across his shoulders. They looked like they had been hard at work for quite a while.

“Hi, Ashley!” Sam greeted her when she got out of the car.

“Hey, guys!” Ashley replied. “I didn’t know you were working here, Matt.”

“Yeah, I only started last weekend” the boy replied, swinging the broom like a golf club before leaving it resting against the wall. “Sam and the other volunteers have been showing me around. I didn’t know ninety percent of this job consisted in scrubbing kennels, though. Sam didn’t offer that bit of information when she told me about this place."

“Well, I didn’t want to spoil the big surprise for you, big guy.” Sam quipped.

Ashley’s mother exited the car and regarded them momentarily before marching steadily inside towards the entrance of the shelter. “Hello, Samantha, hello, Matthew” she said briefly, expecting the three of them to follow her.

“Hello, Mrs. S!” Sam and Matt said simultaneously.

“Where’s the critters at?” Charlotte asked, taking a look at the building. The place had that faint condensed smell of animals and humidity, and the sounds of barking and meowing echoed through the walls.

“We got a litter of kittens recently, they’re about a month old now. I thought you’d like to take a look at them.” Sam explained. “There’s also this big old cat, Rufus, he’s kind of sleepy and apathetic most of the time, but he’s a real sweetheart.”

“Oh, I can definitely work with that” Ashley’s mother said. “I love cats that sleep the whole day. You can even forget they’re there unless they fall asleep inside the washing machine and you need to do laundry.”

Sam frowned at that. Matt chuckled. “She’s joking” Ashley whispered.

Sam gave them a weird look and opened a door for them to get through. She didn’t really appreciate it when people talked so casually about animal mistreatment, even as a joke.

The kittens that Sam was talking about were in a broad cage padded with old newspapers. There were five of them, rolling around happily. Ashley squealed and ran up to the cage.

“Look, mom, they’re all so cute!” she said, sticking her fingers through the bars of the cage to pet their fluffy little heads. She was ecstatic, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I want to adopt them all.”

“Yeah, and I want to go on a cruise through the Bahamas, but I'm afraid that’s not going to happen.” Her mother deadpanned. She went over to the cage and examined them closer. “Mmmhh. It’s hard to tell how they’ll behave in a home just by looking at them in a tiny cage.”

“She’s right” Sam agreed. “Each cat grows into a different personality, but it’s tricky to predict how grumpy or troublesome they’ll be when they’re still so young. Because, ya know, all kittens are naturally playful.”

Ashley scratched a brown tabby under its chin with her index finger and she giggled when the kitten bit her. “I don’t care, I'm sure they’re all lovely.”

“You sure about that?” Her mother said. The brown tabby was now trying to bite the wires of the cage and frantically rubbing his face against them for some reason. “This one looks like he’s not the sharpest tool in the shed.”

Matt laughed. “Woah, Mrs. S, you’ve got Ozzy all figured out in less than a minute.”

“Ozzy?” Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I’ve been giving them names in my head.”

“Well, ‘Ozzy’ is staying here, that’s for sure” Charlotte said adamantly. “What about that one?” She pointed to a grey tabby with a white patch on her chest and face that was sitting alone in the corner.

Ashley wiggled her fingers between the wires to catch the cat’s attention. “Here, kitty kitty!”

The kitten followed the motion of her fingers with wide open yes and crouched down, ready to pounce. Smirking, Ashley untied one of her bracelets and dangled it between the wires at the top of the cage. All the kittens instantly tried to reach for it, but the grey tabby in the corner showed the most enthusiasm of all her siblings. Leaping as high as the tight space of the cage allowed her to, the cat actually managed to get a hold of the bracelet with her teeth and pull it from Ashley’s fingers. “Woah! Hey, that’s mine! Don’t eat it!”

“That’s a frisky one” Matt said. “I call her Vesper.”

“Huh. That’s actually a pretty good name.” Charlotte observed.

Sam looked at the tumult of kittens that had formed in the cage and smiled. “So, should I go get the paperwork?”

 

An hour later, Ashley and her mother were driving back home with the new addition to their little family in tow. After leaving the shelter, they had stopped to buy a litterbox, carrier bag, and other necessities. Ashley was carrying Vesper in an open cardboard box on her lap while her mother drove. They had decided to keep the name. The kitten was restless and kept wriggling and peering over the unfolded flaps of the box, but she didn’t try to jump out. Ashley couldn’t stop smiling.

“Jesus, you look like a little kid on Christmas” her mother said.

“I do, don’t I?” Ashley petted Vesper behind her ears and cooed when the kitten rolled on her back for her to scratch her tummy. “Aww, you’re the cutest little thing I’ve ever seen.”

“You know she’s not an actual baby, right? Making silly faces at her won’t make her react.”

Ashley pulled Vesper up to her face and rubbed her nose against the cat’s muzzle. “Don’t listen to her. She doesn’t understand our bond.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Ashley saw that her mother was smiling too.

 

* * *

 

 

They met in some generic road motel outside of town. As much as people had taken to calling him a vulture in the past (using the word a bit too freely in his opinion), Neil did not get any pleasure off the idea of his longtime friend losing his job for helping him. If that story did turn out to be as big as he suspected it was going to be, when the cat was out of the bag the police department in that town was going to get turned upside down to find out who was responsible for the leak. They could track back to their employees’ movements over the previous weeks and figure out who had been acting odd or left on mysterious trips without explanation. Heck, they could even somehow get their hands into their personal emails. That sort of thing wasn’t unheard of. So all in all, no preventive measures should be spared. They couldn’t be seen meeting anywhere near town. He waited for Shawn to call him first, always from a payphone, and other than that there had been no communication between them for the last week.

Neil stood outside his bedroom door, leaning his back on the wool panels with his hands in his pockets, staring into the distance as he waited for Shawn to arrive. Across the motel’s small parking lot, the only thing one could see was a rundown strip of country road that cut the landscape horizontally, and rows of pine trees beyond it. Everything else was clouded by the dense spring fog, a fog so thick that it looked like huge clumps of cotton strung out between the trees. The vibrant blue of the neon sign in front of the building and the orange glow on the tip of the cigarette between his teeth were the only specks of colour in the grey afternoon. It was like the space occupied by the motel and the small strip of road was an isolated piece of reality and everything else that surrounded it was some kind of unknown, parallel dimension.

The stillness of the foggy evening was broken by the arrival of a white 2006 sedan. The motel manager’s old mutt, who’d been dozing off in his kennel the whole time, woke up with the sudden noise. The old lethargic dog didn’t bother standing up and only observed the newcomer from the safety of his kennel. Neil threw his cigarette on the ground and stomped it out with his shoe. He leaned on the railings and watched Shawn get off his car carrying a big manila envelope.

“Neil, buddy!” Shawn hadn’t changed one bit since the last time he’d seen him. He even still wore that stupid blue camo jacket. “It’s so good to see you!”

Neil didn’t come down the steps. He looked down at his friend from the railings, a hawk peering down at a brain damaged and hobbling ostrich and wondering why it hadn’t gone extinct yet. “You look perky, Shawn.”

Shawn laughed, a look of absolute euphoria in his big bug eyes. He stormed up the steps and enveloped Neil in a crushing hug. Neil awkwardly patted his friend’s back in return.

“Oh, I’ve missed you so much, buddy.” Shawn said after letting go.

“Really?” Neil appeared surprised by this statement. He looked down at the manila folder in Shawn’s hand and immediately forgot that question. “What’s in there?”

Shawn smirked mischievously and shook the envelope like it was a piñata full of candy. “What I have here are the juicy secrets you need to get a Pulitzer.”

Neil raised one eyebrow and beckoned his friend to follow him. “Let’s talk inside.”

The freelance reporter unlocked the door after resisting the urge to look over his shoulder. Too early for paranoia, he thought. “I thought there was an age limit to become a police officer.” He commented.

“I'm not a cop. I'm administrative staff” Shawn replied. “Basically a glorified secretary.”

“Whatever makes you happy, man.”

There was a strange comfort in the fact that, no matter how far away from home you travelled, cheap hotel rooms always stayed the same. Newark, Reno, Vancouver, what-was-this-bumfuck-town-name-again, always the same. The same fuzzy rugs, the same cord-switch lamps, the same bible in the bedside drawer. It was as if the hidden powers that controlled the world had outlined a pattern for everyone’s travelling accommodations and decided that every single room should follow the same dull, depressing design. Maybe it was part of a big conspiracy to increase suicides among the homeless and the recently divorced by reminding them of their own loneliness with the power of scratchy sheets and ugly wallpaper. Out of boredom and a strange sort of inspiration, Neil had taken a look at the bible of his room earlier that day. He’d heard of people leaving notes and messages in hotel bibles for other strangers to read, and he had not been disappointed. There were other things between the pages too, like a baseball card from 1990 in Proverbs and a bird feather in Galatians. Some of the notes written on the margins were amusing _(‘_ _I asked God for a bike, but I know God doesn't work that way. So I stole a bike and asked for forgiveness._ ’) Some were heartbreaking ( _‘I don’t know what I was expecting from this road trip. One last happy memory with my friends? Enlightenment? A miracle cure at the end of the road? Doc called this morning. Metastasis. Game over. This road only leads to one place, and I can’t take anyone with me this time.’_ ) Some were confusing _(‘All hail Nyarlathotep, supreme ruler of Ottawa! Eek eek eek!’_ ) And some were downright sinister _(‘I hope there’s a power outage while I’m away. The backup battery of her ventilator died off months ago and I “forgot” to replace it.’_ )

(Neil hoped that last one was just a tasteless joke, but he’d seen enough messed up things in his career that it wouldn’t surprise him if the person who wrote it was being completely serious)

Shawn sat down on the bed and started pulling out several files from inside the envelope and spreading them all over the duvet. Neil walked up to the window and, after a moment of consideration, pulled the curtains closed.

“I made copies of the police reports from that day” Shawn explained, holding out a bunch of grainy photocopies. “Everything’s in here: preliminary evaluations, official statements, even a couple of medical notes.”

Neil looked at him in astonishment. “How the hell did you manage to get copies of all of that without getting caught?”

“Perks of working filing reports in a dark room all day. You learn a thing or two.”

Neil picked up one of the pages and started reading. He devoured the words avidly, his brow furrowed in deep concentration.

“Well,” he said after he was finished “it’s not the first time a group of hikers get traumatized after an accident and start swearing they’ve seen Bigfoot or some shit. But it does look suspicious, though.”

“And it looks even more suspicious when you add this to it” Shawn said, giving him a couple of old newspapers.

Neil took a look at the date on them. “These are from last year.”

“Exactly. It’s like that mountain brews catastrophes for the family that owns it. I mean, first the daughters, now their only remaining son? Weren’t you the one who said there’s no such thing as a coincidence?”

Neil read the articles that Shawn had circled with red marker for him. His friend was right, that was no coincidence.

“Well, one thing’s clear” he said, putting the newspaper aside “those Washingtons are some unlucky bastards.”

“Really? That’s all you have to say to all of this?”

“I don’t have all the facts. I don’t have anything to say yet.” He pointed at a photo of the mountain lodge in one of the papers. “I want to see this place. Is there any way for us to sneak up there without being noticed?”

“When the Washington boy disappeared, they followed the same protocol as they did with his sisters last year. First they sent daily search parties for the first couple of weeks. Then they turned into weekly expeditions. Then random searches. Then the whole thing was called off until there’s any new leads. We’re understaffed as it is, they simply can’t keep sending people up there indefinitely.”

“So there’ll be no park rangers to worry about if we go take a look?”

“There shouldn’t be, no.”

“Good. How do we get there?”

“The quickest way to climb that mountain is with the cable car. Too bad that the keys are in custody right now.”

“And I suppose you couldn’t make a copy of those keys without your boss noticing...”

“Do you want me to get fired _and_ arrested?!”

“No, of course not.” Neil sighed. “You say the cable car’s the quickest way, so I assume it means that it’s not the only one.”

“Yeah, there’s also the oldest method of transportation known to man: walking. There’s a trail that starts in the southwest side of the mountain and goes up to the top. It’s a two hour hike, though.”

Neil smiled. “Then I guess we should get an early start. Come pick me up at, let’s say 6.30 tomorrow morning?”

“You’re making me wake up earlier than effing roosters on my day off?” Shawn whined. “Alright, alright. The things I do for you, buddy.”

“I’ll make it up to you someday.” He collected all the papers into a neat pile. “I'm keeping these. I'm going to need them for future reference. Congratulations, Shawn Lennox, you’re officially an anonymous source.”

“Just don’t mention my name to anyone. I'm serious, Neil.”

“Do you think I’m an idiot? I’ve been doing this shit for over fifteen years.” Neil put the files aside and stood up. Shawn correctly interpreted this a sign that their meeting was over.

Neil patted his friend’s back and led him to the door. “Go home and hit the pillow. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

Neil stayed up for a few hours, weighing in all that new information in his head. He was having trouble falling asleep, so he leafed through a local folklore book he’d bought in the motel’s gift shop. He read a few chapters about Native American customs and rituals, but his mind kept drifting away. Eventually, he gave up on the book and decided that tobacco was the only thing that would help him get some sleep. He smoked next to the open window so the cigarette wouldn’t trigger the smoke detector.

After a few drags, he noticed a spider crawling up the windowsill. He watched as it crept inside the room, making its way across the wall and onto a table. Neil grabbed an empty glass from the top of the mini fridge and, putting it upside down, he trapped the spider with it before it could crawl down any further. The spider went completely still right away, making itself very small inside the confines of its transparent prison. Neil tapped the glass with his index finger, humming to himself. And then, very quickly, he lifted the lid of the glass just a little bit, blew a puff of smoke into it, and let it drop again. He looked very closely as the spider writhed and twitched inside the glass as the smoke inside slowly suffocated it.

“You should’ve stayed in your hole, buddy” Neil said before putting out his cigarette on the ashtray next to the TV.

He left the glass and the spider right there and went to bed. He decided to get one last look at the bible scribbles before killing the lights. They were far more entertaining than that book from the gift shop anyway. A passage in particular caught his attention. Someone had underlined Exodus 19:12 ( _You shall set bounds for the people all around, saying, ‘Take heed to yourselves that you do not go up to the mountain or touch its base’. Whoever touches the mountain shall surely be put to death_ ). People marking down bible verses was nothing unusual, but what stroke him as strange was the symbol they had drawn in the margin next to it. It looked like a skull with deer antlers. Neil stared at it for a long time, trying to figure out what it meant, but he got nothing. He decided that it was probably some obscure comic book character or something like that. He closed the book, turned off the light, and went to sleep. He didn’t dream.

 

* * *

 

 

_“The lovers crouch under the plane tree. The policeman stands sentinel at the corner. A man passes. There is, then, a world immune from change. But I am not composed enough, standing on tiptoe on the verge of fire, still scorched by the hot breath, afraid of the door opening and the leap of the tiger, to make even one sentence. What I say is perpetually contradicted. Each time the door opens I am interrupted. I am not yet twenty-one.”_

Ashley’s reading of _The Waves_ was, aptly enough, interrupted by an obnoxious knocking on the door. It was locked, of course. It would have been monumentally stupid and embarrassing for them if it hadn’t been, considering that they were both naked under the sheets of Chris’ bed. But as it were, they merely looked up and exchanged a glance as the banging on the door continued.

“Chris, are you in there?” a guy asked from the other side.

“No, I'm not here. Leave.” Chris answered with a flat tone.

“I'm looking for my folder, the red one!” The guy behind the door insisted, ignoring his request. “I left it in the computer lab this morning and I’ve been asking around all day.”

“Well, I haven’t seen it, Darrell. Look, I'm busy right now. Go away.” He gave Ashley a ‘ _see what I have to put up with?’_ look, and she covered her mouth with her hand to stifle her giggle.

“Come on, dude! You’re always the last one to leave the lab because you can’t resist any chance to suck it up to the tutor. You must have taken it by mistake! All my notes for the optics final project are in it!”

Chris pointedly ignored the fact that his classmate had just called him an ass kisser and still expected his help. “I don’t have your stupid folder, Darrell! Get lost!” And to emphasize his point, Chris grabbed one of his shoes from the floor and threw it against the door. He didn’t miss even though he wasn’t wearing his glasses. They heard Darrell yelp loudly and leave while shouting ‘ _Thanks for nothing, jackass!’_ Chris sighed and buried his face in the pillow. “How does he even know where my room is?”

Ashley laughed and poked him. “Why do you hate that guy so much?”

“I really don’t know. There’s just something about him that annoys the crap out of me.”

“Mmmkay.” She shifted between the pillows to make herself more comfortable. “Maybe it’s a good thing that he interrupted us. I think you were getting bored with this book.”

“No I wasn’t” Chris protested, fiddling with the bracelet on her wrist. It was a bit mangled, like it had been chewed on. Maybe he should ask her about it.

“Really? Whose point of view are we reading as in this chapter?”

“Uh... Susan?”

“Rhoda.” She corrected.

“Well, I'm sorry, but it’s a bit difficult to tell them apart sometimes.” He sighed and propped himself up on one elbow to look at her. “You could be reading the freaking phone guide to me and it would still sound like music to my ears.”

Ashley gave him a smile of incredulity. “Haha... what?” She kissed him softly. “Aw, it’s adorable when you think you’re being smooth, you derp.”

Chris huffed. “Yeah, whatever. I know you secretly love my lame pick up lines.”

“I am neither confirming nor denying that statement.” She said smugly before turning her attention back to the novel and clearing her throat. “So, anyway, going back to the book...” She cleared her throat and continued reading where she had stopped.

_“I am to be broken. I am to be derided all my life. I am to be cast up and down among these men and women, with their twitching faces, with their lying tongues, like a cork on a rough sea. Like a ribbon of weed I am flung far every time the door opens. I am the foam that sweeps and fills the uttermost rims of the rocks with whiteness; I am also a girl, here in this room.”_

Chris smirked and circled his fingers over her belly button. She’d grown used to his touch enough that it didn’t cause her shivers anymore. Well, except when he really put himself into it. “The _foam_ that fills the rims of the rocks with _whiteness_? My oh my, that sounds dirty.”

He retracted his hand quickly when she smacked him on the head with the book. Thankfully it was just a paperback. “That’s what you got away from it, you dweeb? This is a masterpiece of the twentieth century you’re listening to!”

Chris laughed and kissed her shoulder. “Sorry, sorry. I forgot how strongly you feel about Virginia Woolf.”

Ashley huffed and closed the book. She checked the alarm clock on the table. “I think it’s about time I leave. It’s getting late.” However, her voice indicated that was the last thing she wanted to do.

“Come on, stay a little longer” Chris begged, drawling out the words and looking at her with half-lidded eyes. “We can take a nap together.”

“No we can’t. Your roommate could come back at any moment.”

“He won’t. He’s at an industrial rock concert or something. He won’t be back until late at night.”

“Fine. Half an hour.” She gave in, leaving the book on the desk under the window and burying herself under the sheets. She turned on her side so they were spooning. “This is going to throw me off my sleep schedule” she murmured.

She felt his fingers brushing her hair back and his lips caressing her neck. “My sleep schedule is pretty fucked up already anyway.” He said.

Ashley was in that state where she was too tired to do anything but not tired enough to fall asleep. Her mind kept wandering between a million thoughts at the same time. In moments like this, when everything was quiet, she thought about the last couple of months and felt almost crushed by the overwhelming realization that they had actually made it. The realization of her own mortality and the fragility of things. There was also an insidious little voice in the back of her head, reminding her that good things never lasted and that any day now it would all come crashing down. The voice also questioned what she had ever done to deserve to get off with a happy ending from the ordeal they had all suffered when some of her friends had not. Some days she thought it was inevitable that Chris would eventually figure her out and break up with her; and she internally braced herself for it. But then he said something or looked at her in a certain way and the thought would banish, at least for a while. Rationally, she knew that she couldn’t control these thoughts and that they weren’t necessarily based on reality, so she tried to ignore them and move on.

“Chris…” she whispered. Her own voice sounded deafening in the darkened room after it being so quiet for a while.

“…Yeah?” He replied, sleepy.

“…I’m really glad that you’re here.”

She thought that he’d fallen back into sleep and hadn’t heard her, but then his hand found hers under the covers and squeezed. He drew his legs forward, wrapping himself even closer to her, like the chrysalis guarding the vulnerable caterpillar within.

“Me too.” He said. “I mean, I’m glad that you’re here too. I always sleep better with you around.”

Ashley smiled and closed her eyes. She saw flashes of silk cocoons and words on a chalkboard behind her eyelids right before she fell asleep without noticing.

 

The alarm clock on the desk woke them up not too long after. They got dressed again in the dark, groaning and still a bit woozy. They kissed clumsily, Ashley in the hallway and Chris still in the room and sticking his head out the door. She stroked his cheek and smiled at him before turning around and leaving. Chris closed the door and rested his forehead against the wall, sighing. During their nap, he’d dreamed about a shrine behind a waterfall. It had been a very brief dream and he was sure that he would forget about it within the next few minutes. He was correct.

He turned on the lamp on his desk and his eyes hurt with the sudden brightness. There was no way he was going back to sleep now, so he decided to be productive and do some more studying. Those matrix problems weren’t going to solve themselves, after all. When Dave came back at around midnight, he was still up.

“Oh, hey” Chris said, turning around from his notebooks. “How was the concert?”

“Man, the audience was weak as fuck. There were only two moshpits during the whole thing, and the band didn’t even play the encore! But the girl selling merchandising was pretty cool and she gave me her number, so that’s good.” Dave took notice of the messy sheets on Chris’ bed and he smirked. “Was Ashley here?”

“Um, yeah.” Chris admitted, feeling embarrassed. “I, uh, I can open a window if the room feels a bit…”

“No, that’s great, Chris.” Dave took off his jacket and threw it on his desk chair. “Carpe diem and shit.”

“Yes, it was nice.” Chris said with a smile. “Just the two of us. And Virginia Woolf.”

Dave whistled. “Ah, good ol’ Virginia. That must have been like watching a really depressing documentary right after a rollercoaster ride. Or… something.” He said, sitting down on his bed and taking off his shoes. “Ugh, I’m a bit tipsy, I don’t even know what I’m saying.”

Chris felt the tips of his ears go red and turned away from his roommate. “Ah, well, that’s just the stuff Ash likes to read. She has a portrait of her in one of her scrapbooks. She wants to write like her one day or something.”

Dave clicked his tongue. “No offense, but your girlfriend has some worrisome role models.”

Chris looked at his roommate over his shoulder with a confused frown. “What?”

“Well, I don’t know if you know, but Virginia Woolf stuffed a bunch of rocks in her pockets and threw herself in a river. To say that she had some issues would be an understatement. I mean the woman couldn’t even off herself like a normal person and jump in front of a train or something, no, she had to be super melodramatic and go all _Ophelia_ about it.” The last part of that sentence sent a shiver up Chris’ spine for some vague reason that he couldn’t quite remember. “And seventy years later, scholars are still fawning over the suicide note she left to her husband like it's this great piece of literary mysticism. I just, I don't get that whole morbid fascination with suicidal artists. It's unhealthy."

Chris shook his head and turned his attention back to his books. He didn’t know how joking about his sex life had turned into something so bleak and macabre, but conversations with his roommate sometimes could take an unpredictable route. He decided to ignore it and focus on his matrix problems. Those weren’t going to solve themselves, after all.

He thought that was all Dave had to say on the matter. But after a moment, the other boy suddenly added:

"Anyway, just make sure to keep Ashley away from ovens if she starts reading too much Sylvia Plath."

Chris stopped doing what he was doing. It took him a moment to realize that what he was feeling was a sudden, cold anger. Something in those words hit a sensitive nerve in him.

“That’s not fucking funny.”

His tone was dead cold. Dave looked up from his phone slowly to find Chris glaring at him. They stared at each other for a moment. Chris wasn’t the best at reading other people, but he could tell that his roommate was gauging his reaction carefully before choosing his next words.

“You’re right. It’s not. I’m sorry.”

His anger dissipated as fast as it had come. He sighed and turned off the light on his desk. “Just… don’t make jokes like that about Ash, okay? I really worry about her these days. I mean, I don’t think she’s going to do something… _reckless_ , but… Sometimes I have no idea of what’s going on inside her head, and I’ve known her for years.”

“I get it. Women are these confusing, mysterious creatures, aren’t they? And sensitive souls like Ashley are double the mystery.”

Chris made a sound of agreement and got himself into bed. He turned around so he was facing the wall. “Goodnight, Dave.”

“Goodnight, Chris.”

 

* * *

 

 

Matt had his lunch and a textbook spread out on the table in front of him. He was eating with quick, half-chewed bites, trying to finish as fast as possible so he could go back to the library. He really couldn’t afford a bad grade on that exam. Next to him, Jessica was picking at her food with a laconic look on her face. She looked exhausted, and Matt thought she might fall asleep on top of her pudding at any moment. The ruckus of the cafeteria didn’t even seem to register to her.

“Jess, are you okay? You look sick.”

She looked up at him, blinking slowly. She seemed to process the question for a moment before answering. “I’m just tired” She said. “I didn’t get much sleep last night and I had a test this morning.”

“Oh. Do you want to talk about it?”

Jessica scoffed. “Right, because the administration methods of local anesthesia is such a fascinating topic.” She was in a bad mood.

“No, I mean, do you want to talk about why you couldn’t sleep?”

Jess looked down at her pudding and shrugged. Matt decided not to push it.

“I think I’m going to enroll in a physical therapy course next semester.” He said, changing the subject.

“Really? I thought you just wanted to play football.”

“I do, but I have to be realistic. It’s pretty tough to land a professional gig and there’s too much competition. What if I have a bad day when a spotter drops by to see us play? What if I get injured? I kinda need a backup plan for that.”

“Why physical therapy?” Jessica asked.

“I guess I like the idea of helping people overcome their injuries.” He looked at her silky scarf, knowing of the scars that she hid beneath it. “To help them get over their pain.”

She gave him a timid smile and looked away. It semed like she wasn’t going to say anything else, so he went back to his book.

He was halfway through the chapter when out of the blue, Jessica said:

“Last night I dreamed that I was crushed to death.”

Matt froze halfway through the process of taking another bite. His mouth was hanging open mere inches from his sandwich. “What?”

Jessica ate a bit of pudding and shrugged again. “First I was dreaming something else, I don’t remember what. Then I was back in my bed at the dorm and I thought I was awake, but actually I was still dreaming. It was dark and I couldn’t move. And then the whole ceiling collapsed on top of me and crushed my legs, and a metal pipe went through my chest. Then I woke up for real.”

He looked at her with shock, not noticing that a spurt of mayonnaise had fallen from his sandwich and landed on his book.

“Jess…”

“It’s okay” she said quickly, showcasing a smile with too many teeth. “It was just a weird dream.”

Matt didn’t say anything. He just reached out across the table and squeezed her arm reassuringly.

 

* * *

 

 

Most of the fog had dissipated the following morning. Neil was quiet during most of the drive to Blackwwod Mountain, only half paying attention to his friend while he told him about his new coworker’s little quirks and habits.

“…Stacy’s okay, but I’m pretty sure she’s a little OCD. She’s always doing crosswords, and she hates it when people touch her things.”

“So do I” Neil pointed out.

“Yes, but you have a reason to be so possessive of your stuff. You’ve always had this whole ‘cunning and mysterious’ vibe going on for you” Shawn said. “I can’t believe you quit your job at the Gazette. You kept talking about it for years, but I never thought you’d actually have the gall to do it.”

“Yeah, well, getting divorced kinda put things into perspective.”

Shawn wasn’t exactly the most perceptive person he knew, but he was smart enough to not ask him about that sensitive subject. “So, how’s life as a freelancer like?”

“It has its pros and cons, I guess.”

“As secretive as always, huh? What does one have to do to get a straight answer out of you, Jersey boy?”

“Get used to it.”

The hiking path had been cut off with yellow tape and there was a sign on a post informing that the path was temporarily closed due to a police incident. Neil took one look at it, huffed, and then crouched down and crawled under the yellow tape. Shawn looked a bit uneasy, but he followed after him. The path was muddy and Neil was glad that he’d had the foresight to pack a pair of hiking boots before leaving for this trip. It wasn’t too cold, but the humidity in the air made it feel chillier than it was.

“And you’re telling me that this family owns this entire mountain?” Neil asked, looking at his surroundings. They weren’t even halfway through and he couldn’t see the road down below anymore.

“One-percenters, man. They don’t live like the rest of us.”

“Understatement.” Neil said, kicking away a small rock in his path. “You know, the name of Bob Washington didn’t click right away yesterday, but I remembered this morning. I’ve actually watched a couple of his movies.”

“Yeah? And how did you like them?”

“They’re trash. But they’re very entertaining trash, I’ll give him that. My only mistake was watching one of them with Gina. Man, worst date idea ever.”

Shawn burst out laughing. “No way! You took Gina to watch a horror movie on a date? Did she get so freaked out that she didn’t even want to kiss you?”

“No, she was bored!” Neil said. “She kept complaining about the two hours of her life she was never getting back.”

“That… sounds like her.”

“We watched it at my apartment. I made lasagna for dinner and she brought her mother’s homemade tiramisu, so it wasn’t all that bad. She even stayed the night. And the next morning I had to drive her to work because someone had stolen all the wheels of her car, but that’s just Newark for you.” Shawn chuckled.

The sun was peering in between the trees and Neil started to feel a bit jittery and excited. They were almost the end of the trail and he could sense that his big story was right there, at the top of that mountain. So close that he could almost smell it. Keep a cool head, he thought. You’re not allowed to feel any glee until you see it printed.

He’d read the police reports. But it didn’t prepare him for the huge disappointing that he felt when the trees gave way to an open field and he saw the charred ruins of the Washington lodge. He’d seen pictures of the lodge before it was destroyed, and witnessing it reduced to a pile of bricks covered in yellow tape felt incredibly saddening. Neil stood in the middle of the field, staring at the ruins ahead, and he wondered if he was looking at a dead end. It was very likely that any evidence that could shed some light in the mystery of that mountain was buried among the debris.

“Well,” he said “I guess I should have expected this.”

“Yes, it’s a real bummer, isn’t it?” Shawn sighed. “Apparently this place was magnificent before the explosion. A beauty of modern architecture. I’m sorry if this was a waste of time.”

“No. It wasn’t.” Neil said with determination. “I still needed to see this place with my own eyes. I would be a shitty investigative journalist if I didn’t.”

“Right. So, what do we do now?”

Neil thought about it for a moment. “Let’s take a look around.”

They went around the whole of the collapsed structure and took one of the paths in the back. Neil had noticed that the grass had started to grow around the debris and he wondered if the Washingtons would do something about the burned down lodge before its remains were overgrown with weeds. Would they try to rebuild it? Neil tried to put himself in their position and he imagined that they probably couldn’t care less about that at the time.

“What are we looking for, exactly?” Shawn asked.

“I’m not sure yet. I’m just trying to get a feel of this place for the moment.”

It was almost noon and they decided to stop to eat something. Shawn had packed some food for both of them since they had predicted that the hike across the mountain would take them most of the day.

“What kind of idiot leaves a bunch of teenagers unsupervised and isolated in a place like this?” Neil asked hypothetically, uncapping a bottle of water. “There’s not even phone reception, what if something happened?”

“The father probably thought that they could manage themselves just fine for a couple of days” Shawn reasoned. “And it’s not like they’re little kids, they’re college students.”

“Big difference” Neil said sarcastically. “Have you seen college campuses lately? I went to a conference at my alma mater in September and I swear I don’t know how some of the students even survive. They’re in for a big surprise when they leave for the real world, that’s for sure.”

Shawn looked at him like he didn’t recognize him. “Jesus, dude, the divorce really hit you hard, didn’t it?”

But Neil wasn’t listening. He’d seen something moving behind the trees. He stood up and went over to the edge of the trail.

“What are you doing?” Shawn asked.

“Shhh” Neil told his friend to shut up before approaching the trees.

Unwavering, he walked into the treeline. He hiked among ferns and outgrown roots, looking out for any signs of movement. He saw something at the edge of a small ravine, and he hid behind a tree to look at it without being noticed. He spotted a blur of grey fur before it disappeared behind the trees. He looked behind to see that Shawn had caught up with him and was looking in the same direction.

“I think it was a wolf.” Neil said. “You didn’t tell me that there were wolves up here.” There was no hint of accusation in his voice, but the look in his eyes was another story.

“It’s okay. They mostly stay away from humans.”

“Mostly?”

“Believe me, it’s more afraid of you than you are of it.”

“Whatever you say.” Neil was about to turn around and walk back to the path, but he noticed something else on the wall of the ravine. “Wait” he said, grabbing his friend’s arm.

They walked down to the ravine and discovered a cave entrance half hidden by bushes and ivy. Neil produced a flashlight from his backpack and scanned the walls of the cave with it. It was a large tunnel that went down into the darkness in a slope. It was a bit steep, but not so steep that they couldn’t simply walk it down. They’d just have to be careful with their footing.

“I don’t see why we should go down there” Shawn said, predicting his thoughts.

“I don’t see why we shouldn’t.” His friend didn’t seem convinced at all by his comeback. Neil sighed “Okay, you can stay here if you want. But I’m going to take a look. Don’t worry, it won’t take long.”

Shawn looked like he was going to try to dissuade him, but he changed his mind. “Fine… scream if you need me”

“Oh, I will.”

Neil looked down at the tunnel, and then he look behind at the woods surrounding them. There was the soft sound of water from a stream nearby, the rustle of leaves up above them, and the chirping of birds, overexcited by the mating season. He looked down again at the tunnel, gloomy and quiet like a catacomb. Neil felt like he was standing on the edge between two worlds. He looked at Shawn one last time, took a deep breath, and leaped into the dark.


End file.
